


Temporary Secretary

by LouisWain1939



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Edgeplay, Exhibitionism, F/M, Feminization, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Kinda, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Power Dynamics, Public Hand Jobs, Submission, Table Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Voice Kink, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouisWain1939/pseuds/LouisWain1939
Summary: Paul McCartney hires you as his secretary "for a little while". Synopsis is pretty self explanatory if you heard the song. It came out in 1980 so that's the time period it's set.I know it's been done before, but god is that song a revelation. McCartney cured my erectile dysfunction with this one let me tell you. A spiritual experience to rival cocaine.
Relationships: Paul McCartney/Original Character(s), Paul McCartney/You
Comments: 11
Kudos: 46





	1. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has illustrations, but the depiction of the reader is not set in stone. You can imagine her however you want.

**15 September 1980**

**9:00am on a Monday**

  
Due to unforeseen circumstances, you had to change location on short notice. You’ve had to give up working a job you’d liked . That was too bad, you supposed. This is how you found yourself living at 53 Jermyn St flat in London. At least it shouldn’t be too hard to find employment while in a big city like this.

You sat in a coffee house having breakfast, you hadn’t gotten around to grocery shopping yet. You had one leg crossed over the other, as you held a scone loosely in your left hand, browsing the classified section of the newspaper. You needed something short-time to pay the bills before something better came along. One enquiry caught your eye:

_WANTED - Temporary Secretary Position:_   
_Females preferred, proficient in typography, good compensation._   
_Apply 4 Chesterfield Street suite 110 between 4-5pm Monday through Friday._

This seemed like what you were looking for, a temporary position that fit your skill set. You were no stranger to writing with typewriters, and something low-key like this would be a good place holder. You marked the posting, you’d stop by this afternoon. You folded the newspaper under your arm,

**4:30pm**

You arrived at 4 Chesterfield street, entering through the tall glass doors. The interior was rather modern looking. You walked to the building directory, running your eyes down the different names.

_Suite 110 - J.P McCartney, LTD:_

_Music Attorney at Law._

You took the lift to the needed floor, then walked down the hallway until you stood in front of the correct door, which had a plaque matching the directory description. You turned the knob, pushing the door open.

The lobby was empty, you supposed the secretary position included working as the receptionist. Large windows lined the left wall, looking down onto the street. The lobby seemed clean and organized, a waiting area along the right end, complete with magazines and a plant. The reception desk was in the center against the back wall. It was complete with stationary, typewriter, cord phone, small waste bin and filing cabinets. The only thing that stood out to you were the disk plaques on the wall, along with a mounted Gretsh on display. There was another door at the back wall, likely leading to McCartney’s office.

You rang the bell on the desk. After a few moments the door opened, and a man came out, wearing a turtleneck and blazer. He was older than you, but younger than you had expected, maybe in his late 30s. You assumed it was an older man who wanted a pretty young thing to look at, with the “females preferred” bit. It was sort of already implied that mostly women would apply to a secretary position.

“Hello, I’m here to apply for the secretary position.” You shook his hand.

“Yes. Hello. Nice to meet you.” he shook your hand back smiling. He lingered in your grip for a moment, holding your gaze, before letting go to continue. “...As I said in the paper, you’ll need to know how to type. Other than that, maybe some experience in the field... though I wouldn’t turn a newcomer away.” He said, then winked.

Strange fellow. His accent was different, more northern. You preferred it honestly, the sharp posh ones could really strain the ears after a bit. He spoke in a casual manner, a bit flirty. He wasn’t being overt with it, god knows you’ve had your fair share of that. His charm was in his humor, using it to come off as endearing. You could see through it, but it worked for him somehow. In any other situation this type of cocky attitude would make you roll your eyes internally. Some people had this sort of personality, you considered. Their agreeability could come off as flirty, intentional or not, unconsciously charming others.

“What sort of things would I be doing?”

“Well, the usual things, picking up the phone...” He gestured to the objects on the desk “...typing up notes, handling the paperwork. You’ll be compensated fairly, of course.” He turned back to face you. “Think you can handle that?”

“Yes, I’ve been in office positions before, and I know how to type pretty well.”

“Great!” he clapped his hands together, grinning at you. “you're hired!”

“Really?” you were surprised at the abrupt decision. “I would think you’d take some time to consider. You’ve had other applicants, surely? I could leave you my resume.”

“Well you seem like a fine choice, no need to prolong operating without one any longer.” You caught his eyes quickly glance over your body, his sociable expression wavering a split second, then immediately returned. If you had blinked you would’ve missed it. “You’re…experienced enough...”

You nodded. He continued on with his unassuming cheerful tone, ignoring the lull.

“I’m about done here, so could you come in around seven tomorrow morning? I’ll acquaint you with the layout, and go more into detail about your job description. I bet you’ll catch on quickly. It's not your first time in an office, yeah?”

“Alright then. See you in the morning.”

You exchanged some parting words, then left as he returned to his office. You were glad to be hired so promptly on your first attempt. Sure, the man was a bit friendly, but it could be worse. You didn’t feel like he was undressing you with his eyes, drooling over you like a sexually repressed creep. He was probably just some overworked young man who wanted to keep a lady around to flirt with and take his calls. harmless stuff really. Better than working for a hardass.

  
  


**23 September 1980**

**Next Tuesday, 5:05pm**

Working as Paul‘s secretary had been going smoothly so far. The only differing aspect was that on your first day, he’d insisted he’d rather you called him “Paul”, or “Sir” if you wanted to be formal. “Mr. McCartney‘s quite the mouthful isn’t it? I’m not that much older than you. I don’t want to feel like I’m your dad, for chrissake.”

You welcomed clients, jotted down phone messages, typed up his notes, managed his schedule. He was a pleasant person, really, and was growing on you. His outgoing nature definitely assisted in his people-skills. He was becoming well established in his field because of this. You quite enjoyed the position, you've only ever worked in corporate jobs, so music law was a nice change of pace.

You dressed appropriately, wearing blouses, skirts, low kitten heels and hosiery. You did your hair up, and wore subtle makeup.

You could see why he spoke in the manner he did. He was rather attractive with his mannerisms and attitude, he likely had a lot of attention from girls when he was younger. Maybe it fed into his ego, but even you were charmed by him despite our initial apprehension. You two got on well.

His office was closed to enquiries at five, but he would usually stay later to finish up paperwork and complete other tasks. You would stay for a bit, but he usually insisted you leave if he hadn’t finished by 5:30.

You were organizing your files at the reception desk, making sure it was aptly prepared for the morning. He came out of his office, walking to your desk. He leaned against it, palms resting on the edge.

“Could I see you in my office? I need your help with something.” He said, sunny demeanor ever present.

“Alright.” You sat up, and followed him through the door.

He had the lights off, the fading daylight streamed through the heavy drapes, casting the room in a blue hue. The ceiling was high, and tall bookshelves lined the walls. The furniture all seemed well made and antique. A well equipped oak desk, complete with cabinets, typewriter, and a shut of reading light, sat in the center of the room, behind it a large leather armchair. A leafy plant stood in the corner, casting large shadows over the floor. Again, the distinctive element was the record player and shelves of LPs along the wall. It was quite spacious, and you could hear the distant sounds of the city.

You watched Paul move to his desk chair. He had it angled toward you rather than the table, legs slightly apart. He eyed you with a lidded expression you could only describe as seductive.

“Come’ere,” he purred, patting his leg, beckoning you to take a seat.

You stood there perturbed. Not that you’d never expect things like this to happen, but you were at a loss with it right in front of you.

“Shy?” he crooned. He stood up and made toward you, holding you by the shoulders. He kissed you softly on the lips, then deepening it. They were very plush.

The sensation snapped you out of it, you pulled away.

“What the fuck?” you said.

“C’mon, Baby, s’alright if you’re nervous.” he pushed a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. His voice was deeper than his conversational one, taking on a sensual tone. Strange to see this side of him after being used to his daytime personality. “I know how to take care of a woman, don’t you worry.”

“Are you coming onto me?” you said, accusatory, but mostly puzzled.

“Hmmm, I suppose so,” He hummed. His voice was sweet and melodic. He went in for another kiss, which you dodged. “Hmm? What's wrong, Baby?’

“What?” You said disgusted, your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t believe this guy. “Is this what you do? What sort of man needs to hire a secretary to get his dick wet?”

You broke from his light hold. You walked around him, until you found an angle that illuminated his face. Paul’s expression seemed more confused rather than angry or offended, matching the one you had when he invited you to sit on his lap.

“I don’t get it. You’re a very pretty one too. Guess that's why you’re so confident in pulling this shit. Wouldn’t you already get enough attention from women? ...or is it the power trip you like?”

This couldn’t have been the first time he went after a secretary from how smoothly he went through the motions. You could see why it worked, he was very charming after all, no wonder they jumped at the chance to sleep with him. In his mind, he likely saw no issue with giving these women a good night. They wanted him, he wanted them.

“Haven't been turned down before, have you?” you said.

Paul just stared at you, mouth slightly parted. You supposed he expected a more gentle reaction, even if you denied him. The soft light hitting him flattered his pretty face, it softed his features. It reminded you of those old glamor shots of 1940s actresses. He was usually very smiley which added to his charm and friendliness, though rather silly. This sort of consistent optimism came off as disingenuous to some, which is why you were initially put off. His current expression was quite alluring, really, highlighting his demure beauty. He was too cocky, a face like that probably got him whatever he wanted from both women and men.

You were enticed to trace your finger down the side of his face. His eyelashes cast long shadows down his cheeks. The power dynamic had shifted, and he shuddered against your touch. You liked this new side of him, unsure and vulnerable, just begging to be taken.

“Come,” you said. You held him by his tie loosely, sitting him on his desk, he moved slowly, submitting to your will. Once seated, he looked down at your hand around his tie, then back into your eyes.

“Be quiet now,” you said “or I’ll leave.”

  
Paul nodded slowly in response, wetting his lips.

Moving your attention to his body, you gently felt the lapels of his blazer. The new fashion was quite boxy, but his body was rather nice. Slightly feminine, with subtle curves from his waist to his hips. You began to undo his shirt buttons, revealing more of his soft pale skin. There was a slight dusting of hair on his chest.

You ran your hand down the exposed flesh, satisfaction filling you as he leaned into your touch. You undid his fly. He was already hard.

“Enjoying this, are you?” You said. Paul looked away, not meeting your eyes.

He let out a soft moan when you grabbed him through his underwear, you promptly shushed him. You began stroking slowly, gently. He was careful to keep in his voice, holding his breath. He stared straight ahead, focusing on his task, though enjoying the sensation. You could tell he was frustrated at your slow pace and light grip. When he gave a slight thrust into your hand, you pinched his thigh. He whimpered.

“No moving. You’re not in charge here, remember?” You said. You retained the slow pace, watching his dick get increasingly hard and dark, desperate for more. He strained against his instincts, focusing on keeping still and holding his voice in. You chuckled.

“You’ve been spoiled over the years, Paul. You never learned to wait for things.” you said. “Patience is a virtue, you know”

You gradually decreased your speed and grip until all you were doing was running one finger around his swollen head. He looked at you, miffed when you ceased even that, stepping away. Just before he opened his mouth to protest, he noticed you slipping off your pantyhose. He cut himself off and his eyes widened.

“I’m going to fuck you now, doll. It's what you wanted, isn’t it it?” you said. Paul raised his eyebrows further in anticipation. “You better not cum until I tell you you can.”

You pushed him down so that he laid on the desk. There were a few papers, but it was large enough for what you needed. You climbed onto the desk as well, hovering over his straining member. You lingered in that position just to mess with him.  
  


He stayed deathly still, careful not to make any movement that’d make you stop. His dick was understimulated, but desperate for orgasm at the same time, so it wouldn’t take much to set him off.

Despite Paul’s efforts to stay quiet, he whined quite loudly when you sunk down on him. The heat coming off of his member was incredible. It was painfully hard, twitching inside of you. Paul wasn’t very large, but curved perfectly inside of you. A pleasant stretch, but not painfully so.

You began to move, lifting completely off each time he tried to grab onto your hips. He was trying hard to keep his voice in, but occasional hums and gasps slipped out. You could tell that he was usually loud in bed, so this was exceptionally challenging for him.

“ _Please, baby,_ ” he whispered. His voice was strained, unsure of your reaction. “I’m so _close_.”

“Ten more seconds. Count to ten, then you can cum. Not a second before or after.” You said sweetly.

You picked up the pace. You could see him begin to mouth the numbers, his mind too hazy to be relied on alone. He interrupted himself each time he needed to stifle a moan. He made it to eight, but the moment he finished mouthing it, he whined loudly, unable to hold it back. His hips instinctively slammed up into yours, and you felt the first hot burst of cum. You lifted completely off, pinning his forearms above his head. He was left thrusting into the air desperately, unable to ride it out. The remaining bursts shot onto where you were hovering above him, splattering against your inner thighs, as well as his own stomach. All the while he whined, frustrated at his ruined orgasm.. The one shot he was able to release inside you dripped out of you back onto him.

“Hmm, so you do know how to take care of a woman.” You grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit worried that he’d come off creepy due to the subject. It’s more that his previous secretaries jumped at the chance to sleep with him, so he didn’t feel like he was taking advantage of his position. He wouldn’t force it or anything if it came to it.
> 
> 4 Chesterfield Street is actually residential, Beau Brummell's old house, and 53 Jermyn Street is the Beau Brummell statue!


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was writing the third chapter and thought to myself “why the fuck didn’t I make him a music attorney? That would’ve been so much better.” So I went back and changed it :)

**24 September 1980**

**Wednesday**

You didn’t bring up the previous evening, greeting Paul pleasantly the next morning. He seemed shaken at seeing you when he first walked in, but as you carried on as you normally did, he reverted to his usual cheerful self.

You welcomed in a new client working with a newly founded group, letting Paul know he had arrived. Later you brought him his tea, typed some notes, took a call about a copyright infringement case against Harrisongs.

The day came to a close. Paul came into the lobby a bit after 5pm, asking for his transcribed notes.

“Here you go.” you said. You were pleasant with him as always, smiling as you handed them to him.

Paul looked down at the notes in his hand blankly, then got annoyed. He placed his hands on the end of your desk, staring down at you with intensity.

“Are ya just going to keep ignoring what you did last evening?”

You looked up at him innocently, mascara rimmed eyes. That just seemed to irritate him further.

“Hmm?” you said.

“I know I didn’t fukin’ imagine the whole damn thing!” He raised his voice, trying to get through to you. “Don’t play dumb!”

You dropped the facade and grinned up at him.

“What, you want something from me, Paulie?” you said in a deeper voice.

Paul looked away, evidently intimidated by this side of you. He’d gotten comfortable with your daytime self again. You liked this effect you had on him.

“Why so bashful, dolly?” You said “You came on to me yesterday, didn’t you? Big confident lawyer.”

Paul pushed back his quaffed bangs with his palm, looking to the side.

“Well?”

“Well!” He said

You rested your cheek in your hand, smiling. You twirled your pen absentmindedly in your fingers.

“Well, if you’re asking, I’ll be much inclined to do so” You said. “You’re a very...sweet thing.”

He tightened his lips and nodded, still looking off to the side.

You led him to his office by his lapel and sat him on his desk chair. Paul stared at you with the same mesmerizing expression from the previous evening, the starlet one: wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

You smiled at him, then knelt down. He jumped in anticipation when you placed your hands on his upper thighs.

“Eager.” You said.

You could feel his heartbeat quicken as you massaged his thighs, just missing his crotch. He sat still, remembering what you ordered yesterday. He wasn’t in charge. Paul was a pretty man, but he needed to be taken down a few pegs. He got what he wanted too easily, and needed to learn patience.

His hips were quite widely set for a man. His body wasn’t a woman’s, obviously. He had broad shoulders and slight definition in his arms, but he had that feminine appeal.

You unbuttoned his pants, and reached down to feel the soft skin of his member in your hand. Paul wasn’t quite in his early 20s, so he wouldn’t get rock hard immediately from a strong breeze. He was definitely getting there though, slowly hardening in your light hold.

You looked down at it, and couldn’t help but notice how cute it was. Smooth in texture, and rather immaculate. It curved symmetrically upwards, a pleasant pink hue as it became aroused. It matched his lips.

You pushed his shirt up slightly. He had quite a bit of pubic hair, but it was very soft, not quite masculine. The dark hair looked nice against his pale skin. You ran your fingers through it to watch him shiver, being touched right above where he needed it most.

You brought your lips to the tip of his member, kissing it gently. You held it in your left hand while you licked a stripe up its side. You could taste the sweat from the day, as well as smell his increasing arousal.

Paul shifted at the light touches, though he should have expected so much from you. He tried his best not to thrust his hips forward to chase them.

“Can I uh-” Paul spoke up, his voice weak. He tried again, more composed. “Are you, uh...you’re not gonna ruin my orgasm again, right?”

“It depends on whether you listen, Paul. You didn’t last time, remember?” You said.

Paul nodded, looking upwards. His right hand was grasping the armrest. He rested his left hand on the back of your neck lightly for some stability. He didn’t apply pressure, so you let it be.”

You licked up another stripe from his perineal raphe to his tip. He held your hair loosely in a fist.

“You’re not done for tonight right? Keep going.” You said.

“What?”

“You have some more work to do, don’t you? You should get started on that.”

Paul scooted his chair closer to his desk, resting his elbows on it. He picked up a pen, eyes flitting over his papers.

“Don’t you dare cum.” You said. “Not until you finish at least.”

You brought your lips over his head, moving deeper. He dropped his pen on the table, moaning into his hand, closing his eyes.

“Paperwork.” You mumbled around his head. You moved slowly, resisting the feeling of it in your mouth, tasting him.

Paul attempted to refocus, picking his pen back up. You kept sucking him off. He whined, then put his right hand over his mouth. He began to make marks on the paper, eyebrows knit.

You loved the feeling of the rubbery head in your mouth. You played with it in your hands, tracing the shape, feeling it against your tongue. It was more for your enjoyment rather than his, as you ignored his noises from above.

He got increasingly desperate as the minutes ticked by, but you never gave him enough to release. Whenever he tried to lean into it, you would back away, making him groan in indignation. Sometimes he would shift his hips, blindly trying to reconnect with your mouth. You would put your lips on him again after the danger of orgasm had passed.

You weren’t faulting him for his noises, but through his concentration he would whine and moan impatiently, angrily. Ever so often he would stomp his foot in exasperation.

Paul’s handwriting was probably getting a bit sloppy by now, but you were sure you’d get the gist of it. As long as your administrations were light, his mind would be coherent enough to understand what he was reading.

After about twenty minutes, you stopped hearing the scratch of his pen. You heard him shuffle papers around, looking over his work.

“M’finished” He said inebriated. You peered up at his flushed face. Adorable.

“Good job”

His member wasn’t as cute as when you had started. It was engorged from the toying, dark red and rock hard. Veins had appeared. It was throbbing angrily leaking from his silt. He twitched at every touch. You still thought it was pretty, red like a rose.

You stepped out of your hosiery. You climbed onto his chair, kneeling over his lap. He was leaning back in his chair, eyes fixated on your face. You began to tease him more, very lightly grazing your clothed arousal against his aching tip. Paul squeezed his eyes closed, letting out a sob in desperation. He needed it badly, his hands gripped the armrests tightly.

“Tell me what you want, dolly. I want to hear you say it.”

“Oh god, jus’ _fuck_ me already.” Paul strained.

“That wasn’t very polite wording, Paul.”

“Fuckin’ hell... _please_ fuck m’already. M’fuckin dying here, _please_.” He whined, pride gone.

“Alright then”

You lowered yourself slowly into him, savoring it. You braced your arms on his shoulders. He moaned loudly, tilting his head back. He wrapped his arms tightly around your body, pressing you to him, coaxing you to move.

You allowed Paul to thrust into you from underneath, his voice desperate. He likely wouldn't last long. His quick pace felt nice as he slammed as deep into you as he could. Suppose he wasn’t lying about showing those other women a good time. He was enthusiastic about it, and stronger than he looked.

His voice got higher as he got close, movements becoming even more so erratic. His face was contorted in bliss, cheeks red and mouth agape. You could see wrinkles appear around his tightly shut eyes as his hot breaths hit your face.

He held you in place tightly, shoving himself even deeper into you as he came. He let out the nicest sounds as his hips shuddered, a silly open-mouthed smile on his face, reminding you more of his daytime self. He twitched inside you, finally getting to relieve his stress as he shot hot jets into you. You bit down on the side of his neck.

“Oh, baby!” He yelled at the ceiling, his chin resting against the top of your head. He kept rocking into you, riding through it.

You let him hold you for a moment as he caught his breath. You could feel his heartbeat slow down, the warmth of his body, him softening inside you. The material of his sweater was soft. When his heart rate slowed sufficiently, you lifted off him, detaching from his grip.

He watched dizzily as you moved off the chair, picking up your hosiery, stepping into them.

“That was’great, baby.” He mumbled. You finished putting on your stockings, then slipped on your penny loafers.

“Alright.” You said, “see you tomorrow at seven.”

“Alright?!” He called after you, indignant, as you walked out of the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’m the fool writing reader inserts, but I try to avoid using “y/n” or the dreaded “s” word. (smirk)


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty happy with this one, boys（ΦωΦ）

I began writing then realized this image existed, so hey! (Its relevant to the chapter)

**Friday 5:10pm**

  
  


Once the office was closed for the night, Paul came into the lobby to speak with you about finishing up the workday, what he would need tomorrow. After he finished speaking, he paused.

“Would you keep me company as I wrap up?” He had said.

Paul had asked you to sit on his lap while he finished his paperwork. He made a couple calls, jotting down notes, sipping his tea.

You went with it to humor him, watching him write.

His right hand was curled around your waist, keeping you balanced. He sighed and murmured, every so often shifting his fingers against the fabric of your blouse, pressing them into the side of your breast.

Paul’s thighs were a comfortable seat you had to admit. You felt a bit like a cat, though.

You were sure this was something Paul did with his previous secretaries. Enjoying the company as he worked, the weight on him, as well as having a girl as a pet, to sit on him and fuck whenever he wanted.

When he was finished, he hung up the phone, and turned to you. From your seat on his lap, there wasn’t much space between your faces.

“Well, what would you like to do now?” He said. His eyes were lidded, but the tone wasn’t overtly seductive. More casual. You thought for a moment.

“Well, it’s already 5:20.” You said.” If I leave now, I can catch the new Doctor Who serial.” 

Paul looked baffled, tripping up the suavity he was trying to put on. 

“Thats a kid’s show!” was the first thing he came up with.

You shrugged.

“I like it.” You said. “The current lead’s a Scouser. Like you.” You tapped his nose.

“What?” He faltered. He didn’t expect the conversation to get here.

“Well, why not stay for a moment?” He took on a more enticing tone. He ran his hand down your bare arm, you were wearing a sleeveless blouse. His voice was sweet as honey. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

You liked the touch of Paul’s rougher hand. He seemed to have calluses on his fingertips. His hand was delicate, but much larger than yours, conducting heat better. His forehead was nearly touching yours. You could see his eye color quite clearly. They weren’t quite brown, slightly green. Hazel was the word for it, wasn’t it?

You brought your fingertips to his forehead, grazing against it. He closed his eyes, eyes crinkling as you ran your hand through his slightly quaffed bangs. He had a slight smile on his lips. You held a small fistfull, and lightly tugged. His head straightened and he gave a slight moan from his nose.

“You want me to have you tonight?” You said.

“Mm,” Paul said in a low voice. His eyes remained closed, keeping his soft smile. 

“Yes, please.” He said gently.

Still with a hold on his hair, you brought your face to his, kissing his petal lips. He reciprocated, unable to move forward though, in your hold. You deepened the kiss, tasting his open mouth. It was warm and pleasant. You found yourself addicted to the taste of him. You wouldn’t be put under his spell though, you made sure he could only take what you would give him. You’d make sure to have him under you.

Paul kissed back as much as he could in your grip, slightly tilting his head, allowing you inside his mouth. He pushed his chest forward, feeling up your waist. You could feel him stiffening against your thigh as you sat on his lap.

“Shh,” you said. 

You let go of his hair, and climbed off his lap, his arms reluctant to let you go. Paul went to undo his fly.

“No.” You said.

He stopped, looking up at you, puzzled.

“I undress you. See?”

He nodded.

Paul retracted his hands, and let you undo his fly. You stroked him through his briefs, enjoying the feeling of his hard arousal through the cotton material. He hummed low in approval, tilting his head back.

You sat on his lap, straddling him, though leaving room between you. You took him out of his underwear, giving him a few strokes with your hand, hearing his lovely noises.

“Do you sing?” You asked.

“Hmm? Why?”

“I dunno, it seems like you’d be good based on your moaning and speaking voice. It's very melodic.”

“I used to,” he trailed off. “Not anymore though.”

Your hands moved to his shirt collar, beginning to unbutton it. You exposed his pretty skin for the second time, running your hands down from the sides of his neck to his hip bones. He closed his eyes, leaning into the contact.

You began to massage his sides, his chest. You pressed your thumbs into his nipples, taking notice of his sigh. You began to rub them in a circular motion. Paul’s eyes shot open, he let out an uneasy hum.

“What’re you doin’?” He said, voice unsteady as you continued.

“You like this, don’t you?”

“I uh,” His eyelids fluttered as your pressure increased. You pinched slightly, making him let out an audible gasp.

“S’embarrasing” he breathed. He unwillingly leant into it, humming as you continued. His dick hardened, twitching against nothing. His cheeks became slightly more flushed.

“I don’t mind,” you said. You stroked your thumbs across them, pinching gently, he moaned. You kept touching them, trying to get reactions out of him. He arched his back, and gripped the armrests. His mouth was open as he drew labored breaths, eyes unfocused.

“S’embarrassing. I don’ touch myself there, s’embarrasing. Nobody’s touched me there.” He said, stumbling over his words a bit. 

“That’s too bad, dolly. You’ve been denying yourself this.” You said. “Don’t worry, I’ll take proper care of them from now on.”

Paul moaned in response, hanging his head. He’d gotten noticeably harder from this. A drop of precum had leaked down his shaft.

You brought a finger down to his silt, encircling it, smearing the pre. You lightly caressed his head with forefinger and thumb. Paul made louder higher noises, unable to thrust up with you sitting on your thighs.

“I love the noises you make,” you said.

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking up and down at a healthy pace. He rest his head on his shoulder and hummed. He made a lot of noise, your assumption from the first night was correct. You liked how he struggled to hold it back then, but you liked hearing it as well. Hopefully the neighboring offices wouldn’t be able to hear if they were still in.

You brought your left hand around the side of his neck, caressing his cheek with your thumb. He leaned into the touch, knitted eyebrows and parted lips. You could see his cute front teeth as he raised his top lip. They reminded you of bunny teeth. Paul was similar to a rabbit, sociable and cute, but as horny as one too.

Paul opened his eyes slightly, meeting yours as his whines began to get higher. He was twitching in your hand, you could tell the eye contact was bringing him close. You got in a few more strokes before pulling your hand back. He straightened his head, looking at you indignant. He instinctively tried to thrust up for stimulation, ultimately failing because of your weight on him. His eyes darted around yours.

You smiled at his compromising position. Paul squeezed his eyes shut and made a prolonged whine in complaint, as his arousal settled down from the lack of contact. He knew better than to use his own hands though.

Once he had cooled down sufficiently, began with gentle touches. You ran a finger down his shaft, up and down slowly. He whined again, partly because he was too sensitive, partly because it was too little. You waited before wrapping your hand around him, stroking him off slowly to begin with.

By the time you’d returned to a healthy pace, his orgasm was building up again. He panted, eyes unfocused, occasionally glancing at you. He’d moved his hands to your lower sides, just above your hip. Holding onto a woman’s waist made restraining himself slightly easier than the armrests.

Paul was getting close, head back and eyes shut tight. Whines were coming from the bottom of his throat. He was rock hard and extremely hot in your hand, throbbing and twitching with each stroke.

Again, when he seemed on the cusp of orgasm, you retreated your hand, cutting off a particularly high moan.

Paul snapped his head back, glowering at you. Not very intimidating though, with his flushed cheeks, sheen of sweat, and mussed up hair.

“What the fuck?” He said, though his voice was very airly.

You only smiled at him as he stared you down, again beginning with the lightest touches.

You did this twice more. By the fourth time, he was absolutely desperate.

You waited for a bit, Paul panting and glaring daggers at you as you smiled at him. You were sure there wasn’t a coherent thought in his head besides his raging desire to have his release. You spoke up.

“Let’s go to my desk.”

He let himself be led out of his office. The door was locked as it was after five, so there wouldn’t be any visitors. There were no windows to the hallway besides one on the door, though the blind was pulled over it. There were large windows along the left side, but the floor was too high up for people to look into from the street. All you could see out of them was the darkening sky and the bare treetops.

You hopped onto your desk, beckoning him closer. He didn’t move, only stared at you blankly, mouth parted. There was his Clara Bow look again.

“You’ve been very good today, Paul. You took it so well. You deserve this.”

“Huh?”

“you can have me on the desk here.”

“What?” 

Christ, you must have obliterated the poor bastard’s mind.

“That was your original plan wasn’t it? To seduce me, then plow me in your office? Well, here you go.”

He wet his lips.

“Can I?”

“Yes.” You stated.

His eyes widened, like a child who’d been offered dessert.

Paul wasted no time in flipping you over, making you squeak at the contact. He pushed up your skirt. He noticed your hosiery. Impulsively he tore it open, too desperate to care, before roughly slamming inside.

He groaned from low in his throat as he began fuckin you deep and hard. Paul was in bliss. This was the first time you let him have control, doing what he had wanted from the moment he hired you. All he wanted was to bend you over his desk and pound the daylights out of you. He thought you’d go along with it. All the other women went along with it, and you were the best one yet.

His body weighed down on yours as he tried to go deeper, his arms tight around your waist. It was a bit hard to breathe. You felt his hot breath in your ear, teeth grazing against it. You were able to hear his lovely moans and sounds so clearly. He had a very sweet voice, deeper it seemed, when he was in control.

Paul was getting more erratic, holding you very tight to him. 

The phone began to ring. Paul ignored it, leaving kisses on the side of your neck and face. You craned your head up, reaching your arm up to take it off the receiver.

“Leave’t!” Paul shouted. His mind was all but gone from lust, but still bewildered you picked it up.

“Could be important,” you said, putting it to your ear. 

It was inconceivable for Paul to stop, albeit he strained to go slower. He let out labored breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder.

“Hello? McCartney law office. This is his secretary.” You said. 

_Hello, this is George Brummell, I stopped by earlier today._

“Oh, hello Mr. Brummell. What can I do for you?”

_May I speak with Mr. McCartney about the Harrisongs lawsuit. Is he available? I hate to call late, but I needed to ask him something. It’s important._

“Hmm, yeah I could get him for you.” You put your hand over the receiver and looked back at Paul. “it’s for you”

Paul looked at you dumbstruck, mouth slack. His face was nearly pink, disheveled hair, shirt wrinkled and open, beads of sweat on his forehead. He took the phone from you with a trembling hand, bringing it up to his ear.

“H-Hello?” He said weakly, he twitched inside of you. It must be agonizing to stay still inside you, every fiber of himself telling him to keep going. The lingering embers of a rational mind told him to maintain societal politeness and speak to the client, but after all the edging, all he could think about unloading inside the warm passage enveloping him.

_Oh hello Mr. McCartney, I have a question about the Harrisongs lawsuit._

“What’s it?” Paul tried to rush his words, end it quickly. He cleared his throat, trying to sound slightly more composed. “Sorry, what’s your question?”

Mr. Brummell went on a lengthy spiel, talking in legal and music jargon you didn’t care to follow. Paul involuntarily thrust his hips in instinct and frustration, which made him need to stifle the resulting moan, turning it into a cough.

“Ah well,” Paul said breathily, hesitating before continuing.

“s’ there anything else you need?” He strained.

Paul was shaking in his attempts to keep still.

_No, that’s all I think,_

“Alright then! Goodbye!”

_Actually-_

Paul didn’t get to hear Brummell’s thought, as he already moved to slam down the phone the minute the parting words left his lips.

Any concern left Paul for the time being. He grabbed your hips with both hands, slamming into you. You squeaked.

“You fuckin’ tart!” He pounded into you harder than before, pissed off from needing to stay still, you picking up the phone call, and edging him all night.

He wanted to cum inside of you on his own terms for once! He was a lawyer for Christ’s sake! He made women flustered, not the other way around! He was charming and attractive! He’d have them blushing and writhing under him! That’s the kind of man he was!

Paul’s head was in a blur. He let out the loudest, most unrestrained noises, as he chased the release denied him.

He buried himself to the hilt, shouting so loudly you were very glad you were on a high floor. There was nothing quite as satisfying as his hot release violently unloading into you. He bit your neck hard, drawing blood, making you wince. Suppose you deserved it for fucking with him all night.

Paul stayed on top of you, catching his breath, weighing you down on the desk. He softened inside you. His face was buried in your hair, and you could feel his hot exhales against it. 

“I hung up on Brummel,” Paul groaned.

“You tore my fucking pantyhose.”

He grumbled in your hair.

“It's alright, you can just call him tomorrow. He’s calling too late anyway.” You said. You shifted difficulty under his weight, looking at your watch. 10:30pm.

“Suppose so”

  
  


——

You greeted Paul cordially the next morning. A smug grin appeared on his face, eyeing the band-aid on your neck. You shot him a dirty look.


	4. Part 4

  
  
**19 November 1980**

**Wednesday**

You’d been working for Paul a couple months now. He had listed the position as a “temporary” gig, so you wondered how long he’d need you for. 

You’d asked him early on, the first week (before he had propositioned you), and his response was a vague “for a little while”.

Your original plan was to work this job to pay the bills until you could find something better. The pay was good, but you wanted to work somewhere that you could move up. This wasn’t exactly a large business where you could rise through the ranks.

Before you had to suddenly move location, you’d been working in a corporate field. Sure, you were hired as an assistant, but you’d been promoted. You had good prospects for further advancement, but the company had dissolved. So much for that. 

However, you found yourself enjoying working for Paul. The clients and cases were much more interesting than corporate issues. You got to welcome such strange people into his office, who you would have never met working in your cubicle. Those rock groups could be such characters.

Paul was the friendly sort, always in a pleasant mood. He didn’t have quite a professional mindset that many in business did. He didn’t feel the need to be so serious with a stick up his ass. He’d speak to clients as if he knew them, making a joke here and there.

He was so passionate about his field as well. He was generally an enthusiastic person, his positivity infectious, but he seemed to really like music itself, further than just in a legal sense. He’d make conversation with you on the direction of the sound, new artists, how it had evolved over the years.

It seemed that he didn’t enjoy working in isolation for long periods of time. An extrovert, you supposed. He must need a presence to ground himself, somebody to talk at. He would pop in the lobby, asking your opinion on one thing or the other. It seemed he liked the attention, the validation of being listened to, regardless if you were much help.

Paul was quite cordial as well, thanking you for things despite it being your job. His politeness must do well in picking up women. He was a charmer, really. With his delicate features and silly attitude, it was a bit jarring when he switched to seduction that first time.

Despite the other happenings, you two were quite amiable during the daytime.

God, it was a pleasure to take him. He was so composed during the day, making it all the more satisfying to unravel him. Sure, technically, you were fucking your boss, but you made sure he hadn’t gotten the upper hand. You _wanted_ to fuck him, and it would be on your own terms. How could you resist a sweet face like that?

It seemed that Paul felt a need to have control in most contexts, so it was all the sweeter when he gave it up to you.

Despite his femininity, mannerisms and silly demeanor, his size and confident presence, his dark arched eyebrows and lidded eyes made him feel rather dominant. He was able to use this along with his friendliness to sway clients to see his side, to get what he needed done. This was likely a driving factor in his success.

Regardless, you hadn’t planned out how long this temporary gig would be. You still looked over the classifieds, seeing the odd interesting prospect. No hurry, you supposed. Your current job was paying the bills in any case.

Were you hesitant about quitting? No. You weren’t sticking around because of some infatuation with your boss who you happened to be fucking. It was what it was. You enjoyed your job, and would be fine whenever it ended, parting with Paul on good terms. You weren’t going to be a secretary forever.

-

It was a Wednesday evening. 

You had stayed back. Paul wanted to play you some tunes from this new group he was working with. Suppose it wasn’t a professional reason, but then again, neither was the sex.

“Good, aren’t they?” He grinned as you listened to the first track.

He was playing a vinyl record of their album. As you noticed the first day, he had quite the collection of LPs. It would be odd, but it made sense as he was a music attorney. It likely made him more appealing, demonstrating he had a passion for it as well.

You sat on the edge of his desk, legs hanging off the side. The sun had gone down, and the sound carried well around the room.

Vinyls were a bit old fashioned. They were still sold, sure, but you didn’t have a record player yourself, only cassettes. There was something nostalgic about it. Your folks had a good collection back home, and you’d grown up with records. The big thing back then were the Kinks, gaining success even in America. You were only six when they released their debut hit single: _You Really Got Me_. Paul must’ve been in his 20s. You wondered if his babyface was even worse back then.

“I like it, it doesn’t sound too electronic.” You said.

“Hmm, yeah, it does seem that music is going in that direction. Electronic I mean. It’s good though, y’know.”

“I mean, yeah.” You said. “I just like the human error, you know? If it’s too computerized it loses a bit of its charm.”

Paul hummed in agreement. He was looking over the sleeve. A nice thing about vinyl was that you could see the cover art quite well. 

You used to spend a lot of time as a kid looking over your parent’s records. You grew a bit worried. You couldn't remember doing something for kicks or curiosity like that. You read books and all, caught a program on the television. 

A wave of unease washed over you. All you thought about was the next step. How could I be better next year? It was a good quality in a way, better than being unmotivated. But with that came with disregarding the current moment. If you were looking ahead your whole life, what would you have to show for it?

“I’ve got to head up to Edinburgh this Saturday.”

Paul’s melodic deep voice shook you out of your thoughts. He always had a pleasant tone, light and agreeable.

“Do you mind coming along? I could use the help.” Paul said. “You’ll be compensated of course.”

“Hmm? sure.” You said. Why the hell not.

Paul turned his head to you. He began mouthing the words to the song, grinning in a silly manner. It was an upbeat tune, the lyrics rather basic.

It should’ve been embarrassing to watch, but this juvenile flirting seemed to oddly work with him. He was much too confident, no irony or nerves, and that silly look of his.

Your face felt hot, and you couldn’t hold the eye contact. He managed to attract you and make you feel embarrassed for him at the same time.

“Ooh, baby!” He said in that old fashioned way, those old rock and roll stars and their hooting.

“Paul…” You said slyly. You were grinning, not meeting his eyes.

“C’mon, baby.”

Paul made his way over to you, placing his hands on either side of you on the desk. When you turned your head to look at him, he was leaning over you, the familiar seductive expression on his face. 

The switch was always a surprise no matter how many times you’d seen it. He went from that silliness to sexual desire at the drop of a hat, those long eyelashes casting shadow on his irises.

“Excited, Paul?” You leered.

“Mmm,” He hummed. 

You uncrossed your legs, bringing him closer. With your seat on the desk, you were about eye to eye with him. You placed your hands on his soft navel, running them up his pretty chest. He was wearing a cardigan today, quite nice to the touch. The weather was getting colder. The dark color went nicely with his brown hair and paler skin.

You played with the soft material while Paul hummed, your hands brushing his sides. You loved touching him, and it seemed that he enjoyed being touched.

You preferred to be the one initiating touches, take time on his body. This expectation would normally be on the man. That was too bad. It didn’t seem Paul got to enjoy being fussed over like this before. You were quite inclined to, what a pretty thing.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, admiring his body. He was more relaxed than before, getting used to relinquishing control. He put his trust in you, and you accepted the responsibility.

You ran your hands over his shoulders, the sides of his neck. His eyes were sleepy, enjoying it.

“How lovely you are, Paul.” You sighed. 

Something you noticed over the weeks was how much Paul enjoyed praise. You were tossing him off once, and told him how pretty his noises were. Your words made him groan and arch his back. It dawned on you as you experimented with it. Paul had a praise kink. 

You used this to your advantage, complimenting his reactions and appearance until he came hard into your fist. Even during the daytime, a term of endearment or compliment would make his pale face flush, make him stumble over his words.

Paul was already half hard from the touches, anticipating your next move. Your eyes flitted down to it, a smile on your lips.

  
  


“Great. How about I suck you off, Paul?”

His lazy eyelids rose. Paul nodded.

“Yeah-”

You hopped off the desk, switching positions so that Paul’s lower back was pressed against the edge. You knelt down.

You undid his fly, taking his length in your hand. The skin was so delicate here. Paul’s skin was rather soft for a man’s, but generally firm everywhere else.

Paul was truly a perfect balance of grace and perversion. You didn’t know it was possible. It was good you came along before he fucked himself into a stupor. Christ, what a guy.

You took the pretty thing in your mouth. You loved the rubbery head, the weight of it on your tongue.

Luckily for Paul, you were a giver. Only for somebody as lovely as him though. It was worth it to choke on a swollen organ, provided it secured his pleasure.

He stroked the back of your head, smoothing down your hair.

“Ohh, fuck, s’good.” He groaned. 

Paul sure had a filthy mouth on him. You did prefer it to the posh types though, with their precise pronunciation and sharp consonants. Nothing turned you off more than a sexual partner blurting out: _Good heavens! I’m arriving!_

You sucked him off firmly, but slowly. Paul had the habit of fucking hard and fast, quite the rabbit he was. Whenever he was in control, he was quite rough and enthusiastic.

“Fuckin hell, baby.” 

Paul’s voice was getting breathy.

You took it deeper, your nose wrinkling as you breathed. The scent of his arousal was rather nice. Paul smelled better than most men, such an immaculate type in his dress as well. Suppose that added to his feminine appeal. Even when dressed more casually he was so dignified, so graceful in his movements, a low melodic voice, despite his silly sense of humor.

You took note of every twitch, finding his sensitive spots and focusing on them. Over the weeks, you noticed that Paul liked attention on his frenulum, around his glands. Where his dick curved up, the spine of it was sensitive too, blood collecting there. You pressed your tongue against it, massaging the stiffness. 

Paul was so composed, but was beginning to unravel, grumbling low in his throat, his eyelids fluttering. He was leaning into the edge of the desk to stabilize himself. His slender fingers curled around your soft hair.

You moved back up, sucking on his cockhead, a firm hand around his shaft. You pressed the tip of your tongue against the frenulum, massaging it in circular movements. He groaned more, shifting his hips.

The warmth and pressure of your mouth was too much. Paul’s voice was getting high.

You brought a hand underneath, holding his balls. Women seemed to be worried about hurting them, but if you were gentle, it could be quite enjoyable for a man. You eased into it, adding more pressure, not surprising him with it. Your index finger found his perineum, rubbing there. Paul moaned deeply from his throat.

Paul was getting closer. His legs were getting weaker. It seemed that he wanted to keel over. You lifted off slightly.

“Keep upright, Paul.” you said firmly.

  
Paul complied, shifting his weight. He pressed his lower back harder against the edge of his desk.

“M’almost there.” He grumbled.

Paul’s hand was tangled in your hair, gently trying to push you deeper.

“Patience,” You said, though it was garbled through his erection. He only moaned in response.

You braced your hands against his thighs to go deeper. Your hands were touching a mixture of rough fabric and soft warm skin. Paul made a jerky thrust instinctively, so you pinched his thigh. He whined, but listened, focusing on holding still as the pleasure throbbed through his abdomen. Shivers were running up his back.

The album was still playing, the electric guitar and the vocals drowned out by the instruments. 

They had a good sound, upbeat, going in circles, flowing over you smoothly. The high notes cut through, carrying the melody. You must be subconsciously matching the rhythm as you sucked Paul off.

You grabbed his thighs harder, bringing his hips closer. Paul braced his hands on the desk to steady himself.

Paul gave another jerk of his hips, but you realized he was cumming, so you let it go. You kept your head in place, his hips pressing himself deeper as his sweet vocals filled the room.

You loved the taste of it. It was your reward for making him feel so nice, after all. You took it happily, the hot bursts hitting the back of your throat as his prick spasmed inside you. You put pressure on your lips, making him groan again.

Paul’s hands were back on your head, twisting your long hair, pushing himself deeper. His soft pubic hair tickled your nose, the scent intoxicating. You exhaled, though shakily. It was a bit hard to breathe. He rode himself through it, releasing every drop into your moist hot throat. 

His grip became lighter as he came down from it.

  
When he began to soften, you stood up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He had a good half foot on you, so you had to look up, but your gaze still gave you the upper hand. He had a dreamy look about him, pale cheeks flushed, breaths returning to normal. His pretty pink lips were parted.

He did look rather flustered, his belt undone and fly open, shirt wrinkled and mussed up hair, a dizzy look in his eye. You on the other hand, were more composed, save your disheveled hair and smeared lipstick.

He charmed you a great deal like this. You pulled him closer by the hips, taking his mouth, exploring the delicious warmth. Paul tasted his own release, it still lingering in your mouth. He lazily moaned through his nose, another rush of endearment through you. You massaged his exposed hip bones.

“What a pretty thing you are.” You said into his mouth. “Such a pretty little thing.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Part 5

  
**22 November 1980**

**Saturday 6am**

  
  


You met Paul at the office at 6am. He needed to grab some things, then you’d both catch the train to Edinburgh.

You stood by the doorway to his office, watching him root through his files. You were dressed in your overcoat, a dark gray one with an old fashioned collar. It was beginning to get colder out, and would be especially so up north.

“Christ, have you seen the papers Jones sent over?”

  
“Not sure, have you checked your desk?”

Paul whipped his head around. He stormed to his desk, searching through the mess of papers.

“You could stand to be more tidy, Paul.” You said casually.

Paul threw his hands up in exasperation, eyes still searching the disorganized spread.

“Well! It was a lot more organized before you fucked me on it!”

“Hmm? It's not like you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

You grinned to yourself. He’d been quite loud last night too.

Paul huffed. He searched a moment more, then slapped a hand to his forehead.

“The briefcase!”

  
Paul shot back to his open briefcase, finding what he was looking for at the bottom of it, underneath everything he’d put inside that morning.

“You already put it in?”

“...I did it last night...so I didn’t forget. I normally get my things together in the morning...In case I needed it the day before, Christ!”

You grinned at him.

“Good now?”

Paul frowned and shut his briefcase swiftly, pushing away the mess of files on the ground. You’d get to it later you supposed.

He walked through the doorway, grabbing your arm and dragging you along.

  
  


-

  
  


The train left the station at 6:30. You’d made it just in time.

You settled in for the ride. The train car was rather empty. Your eyes drifted to Paul to your left, looking over some files, his briefcase open. One leg was crossed over the other, his shin resting on his knee.

You rested your head on his shoulder for a better view of the notes. He smiled to himself, humming.

It would be a long way to Edinburgh, a few hours. You sighed. It was a gloomy day, but those were relaxing. Dark skies and gentle rainfall, the comfort of being inside. The only sounds were the motor of the train, the rain from outside, and Paul’s gentle breaths. The train was quite empty that day. You allowed your eyes to drift, daydreaming.

It might be too familiar to rest on him, but he was rather warm. Paul had a calming presence to him when relaxed. Must be his low gentle voice and delicate features, maybe a bit of his age. His body was on the softer side, not many harsh angles, accentuated by the warmer clothing. He was wearing a tweed coat and soft jumper over his shirt and tie. A bit old fashioned, though you preferred it to the newer boxy styles. A bit nostalgic.

Your hand absentmindedly rested on his thigh. You tapped the thicker material with your fingers. He had such full thighs, nice hips too. The style was a bit baggier now than 20 years ago, but you could make out the shape of it. Come to think of it, you’d never fully disrobed him, being that you only fucked him at the office.

His hips shifted, as if trying to get the sensation higher. You smiled to yourself. You traced the contours of his thigh. It’d be nicer without the material in the way. From what you’d seen, his skin was lovely and pale, soft, though not as pliant as a woman’s.

He exhaled, a slight tremor to it. You noticed he was getting a bit...stirred up. You were surprised as you’d barely touched him. He wasn’t exactly in his early 20s for God’s sake!

“Paul?” You said slyly. He gave you a quick side-eyed look, them flitting back to his papers, a bit embarrassed you’d noticed.

You ran a hand up his thigh. You gave a quick tap to the straining fabric, prompting a quiet gasp.

“Need a hand with that?” You said quietly, a suggestive tone.

Paul looked up, then shifted his thighs.

“Sorry,” He muttered sheepishly.

You traced the outline of it experimentally. His body stiffened, he was nearly fully hard. He must like the thrill of it. 

Of course he was a damn adrenaline junkie, getting a kick out of pushing the limits. He fucked his secretaries in his office for Christ’s sake. You would have never thought upon first meeting him. That goddamned Bambi face of his. What a saucy little minx he was.

“You can’t...” Paul hesitated, though his voice wasn’t quite stern.

He looked down the train corridor, searching with his eyes. There were another couple of people, but they were further down. Anything below the chest was blocked by the seats, and they wouldn’t notice if they spoke softly. If he offered protest, you would stop of course, but he made no move to push your hand away.

You brought your lips to his ear.

“Nobody will see, as long as you keep that lovely voice down.”

Paul let his body relax, but kept his eyes fixed on the aisle, making sure nobody was coming near.

You slowly undid his fly, a sigh from him at the ease of tension. You wrapped your hand around his hardening shaft, already accumulating a pleasant heat. He was damn well enjoying the risk of being caught. You gave him a stroke, and he bit his lip.

“Nice, Paul?” You whispered.

His eyes flitted to you, then back down the aisle. A quiet hum escaped his throat as you stroked him off, rubbing his frenulum. His breaths were a little more shaky, his pretty lips were parted. One of his hands gripped the paper he was looking at, the other on the armrest. There was some tension in his shoulders.

Your pace was slow, nothing too hard as to make him whine. You fixated on his lovely profile, the lovely slope of his nose, his petal lips, long eyelashes and arched eyebrows. His eyes flitted to you again, and you flashed him a smile, his gaze lingering as you pleasured him, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Kiss me, would you?” You said softly, parting your lips like a starlet, (quite similar to his way of doing it, actually).

He complied, another glance before putting his pretty lips gently against yours. He exhaled as your hand tightened. 

You didn’t want to make a scene on the train, so it was chaste, the soft warm lips against yours. You could feel the slight moisture between them. His taste was quite addicting, the scent of him. Some men had such abrasive ones, but his was subtle. Not feminine, though softer. 

You pulled away slowly, after letting the kiss linger. He was getting dizzier, and rested his head on your shoulder, gaze still fixed on the aisle. You looked where Paul was, but there was nobody there. You set your eyes back downward.

His prick was so cute, hard and flushed between his shapely thighs. It was the only thing exposed. You ran a circle around his slit with your fingertip, watching it twitch. It seemed that it grew quickly from the risk. Damn thrill-seeker.

“Say, how about you give it a go?” You said softly.

Paul lifted his head, looking miffed. You smiled.

You reached for his hand, running your thumb over his large soft palm, before curling it around his arousal.

“You’re mad,” He breathed. It didn’t come out too intimidating with his adorably flushed cheeks and slightly dazed eyes.

“C’mon pretty darling,” You cooed. You held his chin, pressing your thumb against his full bottom lip. “I’ll look out for you.”

A bead of precum escaped his slit. You took it on your finger, a surprised gasp at the contact, before bringing it to your mouth, maintaining suggestive eye contact.

“Hah,” was all he could say, his jaw slack. His eyes were wide as his cheeks flushed.

He tightened his grip, then twisted his hand awkwardly, a shaky breath escaping him.

“I’m, ah-” He mumbled, “M’ left handed.”

Your eyes widened.

  
“Oh, alright then. Use that one.”

He switched to his other hand, giving himself a fluid stroke that he must've been craving. He arched into it, nearly forgetting where he was, almost letting a sound escape him. He caught himself. Not exactly a wank in your private bedroom, Paul.

He got into a slower rhythm, like the one you had. He twisted his wrist as he pumped it in his hand. You took note. Knowing how he liked it would be most interesting to know. His eyes were still glued to the aisle, not wanting to risk the chance of being caught.

Your gaze, however, was fixed downward, enthralled as the pink little head appeared and disappeared in his delicate fist. The comparison between it and the swollen bit of dick was mesmerizing to see. You were used to seeing them in an everyday context, so it was rather exciting to see him pleasure himself with it, just as he liked it.

You brought his right hand to your lips, eyes still fixed on the sight as you gently kissed the knuckles. 

His hands were quite lovely. Very delicate with slender fingers, though rather large, much larger than yours. There was a slight hair on his wrist and forearm as well. The smooth pale skin was very nice against yours. He had large wrists, strong forearms. It was one of his more masculine traits. 

“Yeah, touch that pretty cock of yours, McCartney.” You purred in his ear. 

Paul shuddered at the formal address. A quiet groan escaped his lips. His concentration was so endearing, fighting between his composure and arousal. You knew he’d like nothing more than toss his head back and cry, to hell with the consequences. However, Paul was much too proud for that. He still focused his eyes forward, keeping his voice in.

“I bet you’d love it too.” You whispered into his ear, just under your breath. “You little attention whore. Let the whole world see, hmm? They’d love it as well. Such a pretty thing you are, Paul.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, but forced them back open to have a view of the traincar. His breaths were shallow through his pretty parted lips.

You kissed his earlobe, your eyes were closed, eyelashes brushing his cheeks.

  
  


“C’mon beautiful.” You said. 

You kissed the side of his head. It wasn’t obviously sexual. Unable to see below, it was only a couple enjoying the train ride, casual affection.

Paul stiffened up, gasping.  
  


“The- y’know, the cum!” He hissed under his breath. “What, what’re ya-”

“It’s alright” You whispered.

You turned to your purse, digging through it. Your hand closed around your handkerchief. You pressed it into his hand.

“Use this.”

Paul squeezed his eyes shut, covering his mouth with it.  
  


“Christ, nobody’ll see?” Paul hissed, his voice was getting more strained. His eyes were still tightly shut “Fuckin’ hell, m’gonna…on the fuckin train...”

“Nobody’s looking, Paul.” You reassured him softly “It’ll be fine, save you keep that sweet voice down.”

“Fuckin’shit” Paul muttered, voice higher, stifling it.

He jerked his hips into his wrist. 

“Fuckin’” He hissed.

Paul jerked up, quickly bunching the cloth around his shaft. The delicate embroidered thing looked quite silly against his swollen desperate arousal. 

He drew in a sharp breath, his lips stretching over his teeth, mouth open. The skin around his shut eyes crinkled. Paul arched his back into it.

“Shh,” You hushed.

Paul let out the quietest whine. He tossed himself jerkily through the cloth, his member pulsing as he came into it. His back was tense. He drew in another shaky breath, so you took his mouth, stifling the sounds.

He rocked a few more times into his hand, eyes opening slightly, blurrily peering down the aisle with his mouth parted. He drew a few more shaky breaths.

He let his body lax a split second, before his eyes shot open, darting around. Sure enough, nobody had noticed. The only others in the car appeared to be asleep. You giggled.

“S’alright, Paul. Nobody saw it.” You said.

You wiped the rest off with the cloth, making him shudder. Must be sensitive. You tucked him back in, zipping up his fly.

“Nobody the wiser.” You said sweetly.

  
“Tart.” He muttered, his ears hot. He still was looking straight ahead down the aisle, a bewildered expression.

You rubbed his arm.

“Oh, come now. I won’t make a habit of it.” You grinned at him.

He looked back at you, an equivalent sneer on his face.

“Don’t be so smug now, I’ll have my share of’t yet.” His tone was salacious. “Fancy getting pulled into any nook or cranny for a good pounding? ‘Cause I’ll be quite inclined to do so.”

You chuckled at his expense.

“You say that as if I wouldn’t enjoy it.” You gave his arm a playful tug. “You’ll have to try harder than that.” 

He unexpectedly grabbed you by your sides, pulling you onto his knee. You squeaked. An arm came around, hugging you in place. Damn his strength.

“Bastard,” He said humorously. He gave your body a firm squeeze as you stumbled, trying to steady yourself. “Lemme do my damn work.

His arm stayed firmly curled around your ribs, holding you in place as he looked over his papers. You shifted, but he only giggled in his bubbly voice. It made your face a bit hot, but then again, it was a bit fair. 

You relaxed, submitting to the hold. You looked over the notes lazily along with him. It was still a couple hours until Edinburgh.

  
  
  
  



	6. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to research contractual law :(((( for my McCartney erotica :((((
> 
> Take my knowledge of the subject with a grain of salt :)

**22 November 1980**

**Saturday 11:30am**

After a five hour train ride, it was a relief finally arriving in Edinburgh. It’d be a night here, then back to London Sunday morning.

It felt great standing up again. Paul grabbed his bag, handing you yours, then you got off the train.

“Pretty nippy, isn’t it?” Paul said huddling in his coat.

You pulled your cardigan around yourself. You nodded.

“You know,” Paul continued, “They used to not put wheels on these things. Had to carry them! Beats me how they didn’t think of’t.”

“Such a pensioner you are, Paul.” You said. “I forget at times.”

He scoffed.

“Pensioner?”

There was a car waiting for you at the station. You both got into the backseat quickly, happy to be out of the cold. Paul swung the door shut behind you.

“Hell.” Paul mumbled.

You shivered as you got used to the warmth, regaining feeling in your ears and nose.

Paul shook as well, playing up the theatrics more than you were. He suddenly grabbed both your hands, blowing air on them. You’d made the foolish choice of not bringing gloves.

“Better?”

“Suppose,” you hushed under your breath, eyes flitting to the front seat.“The driver...Paul.”

“You’ve got little hands.” Paul hissed back. “If I don't warm them up, they’ll fall off.”

He snorted.   
  
“Who’ll type up my notes then?” He said through his low giggling.

You curled your fingers shut sharply out of instinct from the thought of them freezing off. That made him give another laugh.

You groaned at him. Suppose it was his turn to embarrass you in transit.

He brought them up to his mouth. You jumped as they made contact with his relatively heated lips.

-

Thankfully, Paul didn’t go for a quickie in the car. It pulled up to a hotel, an older one by the looks of it.

You got out and the driver took your bags out of the trunk. You thanked him for the ride.

Paul held your arm as you walked in, the warm air from the lobby hitting your face. You made your way to the reception desk as you tried to get feeling back into your fingertips.

“Hello, could we have the keys to our room?” Paul said. “It should be under McCartney. I called earlier...yeah,”

_ Room...singular? _

The receptionist dipped under the table, sorting through the various keys. He pulled one out.

“Could I see some sort of ID? And the card the reservation’s on?”

“Yeah, hold’on.” Paul shot him a smile, his cheeks bunching up. He rooted through his pockets, pulling out his wallet. 

The receptionist looked them over, seemingly satisfied.

“You’re all set. Have a good day.” He said, Paul’s friendly demeanor rubbing off on him.

Paul grinned back, taking the key with a wink. Was it a tick or something Paul had? He shot you a grin as well.

“All set,” Paul repeated to you.

He still had that hold on your arm, and he made his way to the elevator. The staff took your bags to bring up as well.

Paul turned the key in the lock. The room was rather cozy, with a good view of the old Edinburgh architecture. You always did love old buildings. The walls were a warm shade of gray, a very homey feeling in the way it was decorated. It had an old fashioned bedspread, curtains and lampshades. The furniture seemed older as well, made of wood, giving the room a pleasant scent. There was a dresser and vanity in the room.

The only issue was the single bed. A larger one, seemingly for couples.

“We’ve got a few minutes to unpack, then we gotta head to Jones’. We’ve got a meeting, and I’d like ya to take notes and such, yeah?”

You nodded as he began to sort through his things.

You placed your suitcase on the bed as well. You’d only packed a change of clothes, toiletries and such. You looked over them, but the situation nagged at your head.

“Paul, you only got one room?” You said.

Paul looked up from his open case, a worried look grew on his face.

“Um, yeah. Was that presumptuous?” He seemed a bit sheepish. “I figured you wouldn’t mind, but I could get you another one if you’d like.”

You thought it over, then shook your head. It was practical wasn’t it? It wasn’t like you weren't going to sleep with him that night.

“No, it’s alright.” You said. You gave him a more salacious look. “Now I won’t need to limp down the hallway this evening after I’m finished with you.”

Paul got a giddy look on his face.

“Oh?”

“Hmm.” You hummed. You grinned as you turned back to your things.

-

**12:30pm**

Mr. Jones worked with a Northern record label that signed the group Paul was affiliated with. He welcomed you both into the building’s conference room. 

You appreciated how Jones greeted you as well, looking you in the eye. 

You were used to being a non-entity when you were younger, having just started working at your old company as a secretary. Sometimes they wouldn’t even speak, just grunt or make a hand gesture to ask for things.

As the record label’s representative, Jones’ job was to sign the group, generate revenue from the record sales, and promote the group. Paul was involved with the legalities of it, making sure his clients weren’t snubbed in any way. The group’s main job was to write and record the music, though they remained involved in the negotiations and the rest of the process.

Their album would be out in a few more months, the process already underway by the time you’d began working for him.

You jotted down notes from the conversation as they spoke about terms, negotiated over the contract. You would later type up this loose transcript for later reference. 

You hadn’t worked in law before. In fact, you mostly did database type work. You rather liked compiling and organizing information, archiving things. It was all quite satisfying to you in a way.

Paul insisted that the group preferred to be anti-commercial. They didn’t want their music to be used to advertise a product and such. 

It seemed that Paul got on quite well with Jones. As they negotiated, Paul never came off as demanding or aggressive. It was likely his gentle features, combined with his cheery nature.

Well Paul got on well with most people, save the ones put off by his sunny disposition. Some may see it as disingenuous, or maybe think of him as naive, or unintelligent.

It wasn’t that Paul wasn’t intelligent. Perhaps he spoke in a friendly manner that may seem a bit too familiar. He used lingo here and there, and used vocal filler rather often, words such as “uh”, “sort of”, and his worst offender: “y’know”. Paul tended to trail off, just to start his sentences a different way.

At first, you thought his manner of speech would drive you up the wall, but the very opposite was happening. The tone of his voice itself was deep and pleasant, melodic and sweet. You enjoyed the way he spoke, he never seemed to be judgmental of things. It was a nice sound, even if he didn’t have much to say. 

His laughter too. He was quick to smile or laugh. That could definitely be considered childish by some, but it made him pleasant to be around. He wasn’t obnoxious about it. It all seemed genuine.

When it came to perceived intelligence, the way he spoke shouldn’t be a reason to dismiss it. When you looked over his notes, they were a lot more eloquent. It must be easier to organize his thoughts in this way, rather than communicate them in real time. His mind must move quickly, jumping from topic to topic before he has a chance to speak. Paul had a good knowledge of his field, and a genuine passion for it.

  
  


-

**4:00pm**

“Wanna go for food?” Paul said as you left the building.

He was dressed much better than you for the weather. He had on a heavier winter coat, woolen jumper and collared shirt and tie underneath it. Paul also wore a scarf to keep his neck warm. 

His skin was paler than yours, and the cold made his nose, ears, and cheeks a sweet shade of pink. There was another area of him that matched that shade...you looked away.

You wrapped your coat tighter. You should've worn more layers, or at least brought a hat and gloves. The sun was already showing signs of setting. It got cold up north for sure.

“Sure,” you said. “What’s open?”

“I was here not too long ago. There’s this great place just down the road there.”

Paul gestured down the street.

“Alright, let's go there.”

Paul linked his arm with yours as you made further down the street. Familiar maybe, but you were thankful from the warmth. Paul seemed less affected from the cold it seemed, and his body was large and comfortable. You could probably stand to have more meat on your bones. Whenever you’d get stressed or overworked, you’d skim on meals. It wasn’t a good habit, but it was such a drag to keep on top of it when there were things to be done.

You found yourself in a cluster of carts selling various types of food. It was beginning to get more populated as the sun went down.

“That’s the place I was talking about.” Paul gestured to one of the carts. “It’s got savory crepes and the like. We can do something else too if you’d like.”

“No, no. That sounds good right now.” You said.

You were hungry from the day, not having had breakfast. It was cold out, and nothing would be better than some hot meat at the moment. Your thoughts trailed off as your eyes drifted to Paul.

“C’mon then.” He said in his cheery manner.

He was always so pleasant in demeanor. You wondered how he did it. It didn’t even come off as an act, that was just the way he was. Paul was very attractive physically, but if anything this aspect of him drew you in further. Sexually as well. How odd.

You waited in the queue a moment before ordering. You asked for a savory crepe with cod and potatoes. Paul ordered a mushroom one with greens. You both sat at a nearby picnic table until it was ready.

“You don’t want one with meat?” You said casually.

“No,” Paul made a face. “I don’t eat the stuff.”

He didn’t eat meat? Paul didn’t strike you as the religious type.

“How come?”

“Oh, y’know. Feel bad.” Paul said. “After...I mean, a while ago, I moved out to the country to get away from some things...I had this farm-type property...a small one. I took care of some farm animals, and I felt bad, y’know.”

Paul paused in thought.

“There was this one time, y’know. I was in the kitchen washing up, and out the window I saw these lambs, see, doing the type of thing lambs do.”

Paul did a little impression with his hands. It would’ve been a bit strange, but you were getting used to his little peculiarities.

“...frolicking around like they do, outside the window. Felt bad, y’know, about killin’ them. Think they deserve as much a shot as I do, yeah?”

You nodded. You hadn’t thought about it in that aspect. You thought people who abstained did it for spiritual reasons. As for you, you mostly saw food mostly as fuel. You didn’t like the texture of most meats, but it was more of a matter of taste for you. You hadn’t thought of it beyond that.

Your number was called, and you got up to get your food. Damn it was nice holding the warm food wrapped in paper.

The sun had already set. You shuddered as you walked.

“I’m underdressed I think.” You told Paul. “I packed for November in London, not Edinburgh. Late November at that.”

Your heart jumped as Paul yanked you to the side of his body, his left arm curled around your shoulders. You stumbled from the surprise. You had to make sure to not drop your food as you continued walking.

“Paul!” You said.

He squeezed your body firmly in his hold. You squeaked. You always forgot his strength with his delicate features and childish demeanor.

“I’m warm aren’t I?” 

His tone was playful, though there was a seduction that cut through, causing a buzz in your chest. His voice was pleasant, but he could change it to something quite intoxicating. So strange. 

It was quite warm where his body pressed to you, which you appreciated. The outside of his coat was still chilled from the air.

He gave another squeeze to your body, making you wobble as you walked. He kept a comfortable hold on you. You took another bite from your crepe. Paul hummed warmly.

-

**7:00pm**

You returned to the hotel, taking the elevator up to your floor.

You’d warmed to the concept of a shared room. It was just more practical. You were going to sleep with him anyways, and it’d be much nicer having company in the cozy room. You didn’t have to leave afterwards, walking through the deserted hallway to your own empty room.

Over-familiar or not, Paul’s body was warm and comfortable in the cold, nice to the touch. It was nice being pressed up against it. You could feel the slight movement as he breathed, the soft vibrations of his deep voice.

You had to be up the next morning at six to catch the 7am train.

As soon as the hotel door shut behind you, Paul pushed you against it, using his strength to his advantage.

His mouth was on yours, tugging on your bottom lip. You reciprocated eagerly. Every contour of his soft body pressed against you deliciously, hands feeling up your sides. You tightened your arms around the dip of his back, where his hips curved out. He groaned against you, pressing his hips firmer against you.

Your head buzzed with the sudden change of temperature, your body filling with warmth. He’d made the switch from playful to lustful demeanor again, the change always so jarring. You craved both versions of him in equal part.

He rolled his hips against yours slowly. Hardening already?

“Hmm? You got off just this morning, Paul.” You murmured against his mouth.

“That was ages ago.” He mumbled.

“You’ve got mushrooms on your breath.” You said.

Paul giggled in his low voice.

It was another thing you appreciated. He didn’t refrain from these sorts of things to seem more “manly”. Some men did, and personally you never cared for the “masculine” attitude, or look for that matter. If you wanted a man to lord over you, you’d go back to high school.

“You’ve got fish in yours.” Paul said back.   
  


“I do?” You said, turning your head to the side. “It’s cod, not too fishy, is it?”

Paul giggled again.

“Yeah, s ‘not strong. Don’ worry.”

Your hands played on his lovely curved hips, playing at the fabric. You wanted to see all of him now that you had a room to yourselves. You’d only seen bits and pieces in the office, and when you did, it was usually dark. 

It gave him a lovely cozy look, the thick fabric warming him whilst out, but his coat had to go. It left too much to the imagination.

You pushed him back slightly to undo the buttons. Paul hesitated to detach himself, but allowed it. He watched as your delicate hands moved down his coat.

You slipped it off him and hung it on the nearby coat rack. You turned back to him. Paul’s eyes cloudy with lust, but also demure, allowing you to take control.

You smiled warmly at him. You spoke in a low tone of voice.

“I’d like to see all of you tonight, Paul.”

Paul’s eyes widened slightly, though his eyebrows were still relaxed. He parted his lips.

You kept your smile, placing your hands gently on his chest. The wool of his jumper was soft against your hands, not quite a scratchy material.

Paul hummed softly, his eyes falling closed as you touched him. 

He allowed you to push him back, sitting him down on the bed. You leaned into him until your chest was pressed firm against his. Paul’s arousal dug into your navel through your skirt.

You were still wearing your own coat. You sat up, still straddling him, his erection straining right above your seat. 

Paul watched you dreamily as you unbuttoned your coat, then took it off, setting it aside. You stood above him wearing your blouse. (you really should've packed a sweater). 

“More?” You said. Paul nodded furiously, eyes widely opening. 

You’d seen a small amount of him, but you’d never undressed. He had to earn that.

You took your time unbuttoning your blouse, purposely not meeting his gaze. You could feel Paul’s eyes boring into you. You grinned smugly to yourself.

Paul’s hands found your hips, gripping them firmly.

“No, no.” You said playfully, gently pushing them off. “Hands to yourself.”

You still didn’t look at him, but you felt Paul shiver underneath you. You grinned. You pulled the blouse from where it tucked into your wool skirt, shrugging it off.

You finally met Paul’s gaze. His eyes were wide as he looked at you (more specifically, your chest). 

“Can I…?” Paul breathed. His fingers twitched as he rested his hands beside him.

“Hold on.” You said. 

You reached your arms around, undoing the clasp. Paul’s eyes widened even more. 

It was quite silly, the way he reacted. Paul wasn’t an innocent little choir boy, he frequently engaged in deviant acts, with his employees no less. He was acting like he’d caught his first glimpse of a nudie mag.

“Now…?” Paul said, voice quiet and breathy.

You leant over him, looking salaciously into his eyes. Such pretty doe eyes they were. You gripped his hands between the both of you. His eyes darted down to your chest a second, before back to your eyes.

“Your turn, lovely.” You said sweetly.

You sat back up, and curled your fingers around the rim of his jumper.

Paul’s eyes flitted to your hands. He wasn’t saying anything, but he looked...afraid almost. You stopped.

“You good?” You asked him, dropping the lust in your voice.

Paul’s eyes flitted back to yours. He seemed guilty, maybe that you’d noticed. He parted his delicate lips to say something, then hesitated before starting again.

“It’s been a while since I…” He said, voice becoming uncertain.

You raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean? We just did it.” You were confused. “The night before, too. You weren't exactly abstinent before we met, either.”

Paul’s lips tightened. We wet them before continuing.

“No, no, I mean...I haven’t undressed…like.” He said quietly. “It was dark in my office, y’know? You only saw a bit of me. I, I, haven't for a while. Hadn’t even done that much with the others, Just fucked them, y’know.”

“Why not?” You said, then whispered, “You’ve got a birthmark or something?”

Paul shook his head, a bit humored, though still bashful.

“No, s’not that. It’s jus…” Paul trailed off. “...used to be more of a flirt in my youth an’ all, see…”

“Used to be?” You said amused.

Paul chuckled at the comment. His face then refocused, then frowned.

“Maybe it’s a bit vain...” He said wearily. “But after gettin’ that attention... s’ a bit harder coming to terms with it as the years go by...”

This seemed to be something that crossed his mind, though he’d never said it out loud. He didn’t want to come to terms with it. Paul’s voice got even quieter.

“M’ not what I used to be, y’know.” He mumbled, not meeting your eyes.

You frowned as well.

“I don’t understand.” You said.

Paul looked back at you, confused. He parted his lips.

“M’not muscular y’know.” Paul spoke very quietly. It was hard for him to say. “I’ve never been very manly, I suppose...but…”

He paused. He looked away again.

“I’ve...aged.”

Paul looked shameful. He’d put himself in a vulnerable position.

You didn’t expect to hear this from him. Paul seemed always so confident in himself, in the way he spoke and acted. When he came onto you that first day, he acted like it was a sure thing, genuinely surprised at your reaction.

It made you sad. He was absolutely lovely from what you’d seen. It was strange he was worried about his more slender body type. That was one of the things you liked most about him. You didn’t care for the muscular, or even more masculine types. It didn’t appeal to you on a sexual level, not very comfortable to the touch either. 

You adored Paul’s body, the subtle curves and softness of it. It was nice to the touch, and matched his pretty face. You wouldn’t change a thing about it.

“I don’t  _ understand _ , Paul.” You said, taking your seductive tone once again. You ran your hands over his chest, over the soft warm wool.

Paul’s eyes fell shut in pleasure. He let out a breath, leaning into the gentle touches.

“Maybe it’s your  _ eyes _ that have aged.” Your voice was low, the admiration showing through. You pressed your palms against him, soothing any soreness that had accumulated throughout the day. “From where I am…”

Paul bit his hip, eyebrows knitting. There was the excitement he got from praise again, shooting straight to his arousal. You truly meant it though.

You spoke barely above a whisper.

“I want to see you, Paul.”

He shifted his hips under you as his arousal grew. He gave a short sharp nod of his head.

A wide grin grew on your face.

“Thank you.” you breathed.

You slowly rolled up the layers he had on. Paul sucked in a breath, his eyes still closed. He still seemed nervous, worried of your reaction.

Your grin widened further as his pale skin was revealed. It was immaculate and soft, his stomach tense with insecurity.

You ran your hand over it. It was very warm to the touch, soft and smooth on your palm. You massaged it, easing the tension. Paul drew a shaky breath, his eyes shut rather tight.

Your touch became firmer, pressing against the softness. Paul drew a shaky breath, his eyes shut rather tight.

“Beautiful.” You said under your breath, reassuring him.

Paul’s eyebrows relaxed a slight amount, his lips parting. He let out an exhale.

“You are.” You said softly.

You began to undo his shirt buttons underneath his jumper. Paul kept his eyes closed. He seemed to enjoy being fussed over, losing his worries for the time being.

He allowed it to be tugged over his head.

“I’ve seen these before, haven’t I?” You said to him softly. A slight hunger grew in your voice.

You traced your fingers along his puffies. Paul whimpered.

“...yes…” He breathed.

“I know that you like this…” You said, grinning. 

You ran your fingertips lightly over the very delicate pink skin. Paul sucked in a breath, making a shaky exhale.

“You like this...” 

Without warning, you pinched them sharply. Paul yelped in surprise and pleasure. 

“Right, Paul?” 

You twisted them slowly in your tight grip. Paul’s mouth was open wide, gasping for breath. He groaned and arched his back from the intense sensation, shooting right to his prick

“Right, Paul?” You cooed sweetly. There was a large grin across your face.

“...yes…!” He squeaked.

You returned to the gentler touches, satisfied with the response.

“Right.” You said.

You ran your hands over his bare sides, up the sides of his neck, then back down. You soothed his tension. You reached his navel, hands curling around the rim of his trousers.

“Alright?” You said.

Paul nodded, his eyes closed.

You undid the fly, sliding them off him. You pulled off his oxfords.

“My, you have such lovely legs.” you said in awe. You hadn’t gotten a good look at them.

They really were. So long and shapely, immaculate pale skin. They were almost feminine besides a fair amount of soft dark fuzz on his thighs, thickening and softening as it got higher. Both his legs and arms were rather toned, while his chest and stomach were soft and welcoming. It all blended together beautifully.

Paul was conscious of your eyes on them, he shifted his legs slightly, his knees bending. It was captivating watching them, seeing how the muscles moved. He was fully hard, his arousal resting on his pretty navel. Your eyes flitted to it.

“And this…” You said.

Your hand curled around his length, gently squeezing. Paul moaned at the contact, shifting his body.

You ran your hands back over his body, from his hips to his chest. He arched his back into it, his head turning to the side. He still had his eyes closed. 

Was it his skin that worried him? Maybe it was a bit less firm than when he was younger, but still so lovely and soft to the touch. It was inevitable, but if he had aged, it hadn’t done a thing to him.

“Beautiful…”

You pressed a kiss to his strong neck, the bare skin of your chest touching his. It was an indescribable feeling, the soft warm skin grazing against yours.

You breathed in his sweet scent, able to smell the chill from outside still lingering on him.

“How can I convince you how lovely you are?” You said very quietly, lips grazing his ears.

Paul’s arousal pressed against your navel, the shaft against the courser fabric of your skirt, the head grazing against your skin. It was beginning to leak, the precum smearing onto you. Paul whined.

“F’me...” He said under his breath. “ _ please…” _

You lifted off him.

“That’ll work?” You asked.

Paul opened his eyes slowly.

  
“Huh?” He said.

You smiled at him, then looked down at his body, running your hands along it.

“If I fuck you real nicely, will you see yourself the way I do?”

Paul shut his eyes.

“Please,” He said again, quiet from his parted hips.

You nodded at him, grinning. You looked over his body.

“Let me see that lovely prick of yours,” You murmured.

Paul hummed in response. You ran your lips down his body, grazing against his trembling skin.

You felt the soft fluff of his pubic hair against your lips, the scent of his arousal stronger than ever.

“Paul....” You mumbled into it. This is where the mound of Venus would be if he were a woman.

You lifted your head up, gazing down at his arousal. You took it in your hand, curling around the heat.

You gave it a firm pump, and Paul cried out.   
  
“Eager…” You teased.

“Please,” Paul breathed.

You pressed your palms flat on his thighs, spreading them. More of his scent wafted around you. It was intoxicating. He grumbled in frustration.

“Right, right, you want to be fucked. I know.” You purred.

Paul whined again.

He had quite a bit of hair here in comparison to the rest of his body. He had some on his forearms, and only a small amount on his chest. You played with the soft pubic hair. It wasn’t wiry like a lot of men had. Every bit of hair on his body was soft, dark, and fluffy.

You put your mouth on his thighs, kissing and nipping at the sensitive areas. Paul shifted his legs as he made his sweet sounds.

“C’mon, don’t tease…” Paul groaned low in his voice as he tilted his head back. “Jus’ make m’feel nice tonight...yeah?”

You nodded, beaming. You ran your hands up his thighs, feeling the soft hair graze against your palms.

“I will.” You said gently.

First though, you took him back in your hand. You felt the organ’s subtle give, the delicate skin on the shaft, and the rubberiness of the head. You swiped a finger across his slit, smearing the slight precum. Paul shuddered. 

You lay a gentle hand on his jaw.

“I’ve still got on my stockings and such.” You said. “Would you like to return the favor?”

Paul’s eyes shot open at that. He was already flushed, but this seemed to fluster him further.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah.” He sputtered.

You moved over to the headboard, resting against the pillows. Paul sat up on his heels and turned to you. He became aware of his nudity, and brought his knees together, though it didn’t do much to hide his arousal. You were endeared by the way his fluffy hair peaked up from between his closed thighs. They were very full, too.

You grinned at him, and beckoned him closer, shifting your legs.

Paul’s eyes flitted to your bare chest, and he parted his lips again.

“C’mon, pretty.” You said sweetly.

He moved closer, and placed a light hand on your knee. 

You could better see the feminine curve of his hips when disrobed. They bent alluringly as Paul rested on his knees, looking over you. His arms and shoulders as well were quite nice, the tone flexing as they moved. You already knew the graceful way Paul carried himself, but you could see it all the more clearly now.

Each part of his lovely body curved together beautifully. His forearms were more masculine, large with a dusting of hair. His hands, as you knew, were delicate and slender, as well as much larger than yours. They become less cold in these low temperatures.

He placed both his hands on your knees, spreading them. His administrations were gentle, but you complied, moving where he wanted you to, making it easier.

Paul’s eyes grew wider. His expression was seeming to become more bold, looking over your body. You were giving him more control tonight, allowing him to take what he wanted.

It seemed the power was making him a bit cocky (figuratively and literally. His hard on stood proudly against his belly, flushed with excitement). A grin spread over his lips, a sly look about him.

You were glad Paul was able to regain his confidence. You still couldn’t understand how he felt that way about himself. Looking over him now, you couldn’t find a single physical imperfection.

You reflected the seductive look on his face.

His gaze shifted down, and his hands moved to undo the button on your skirt. He slid it down slowly, taking his time. You watched his delicate wrists and hands work. His hands were quite lovely.

Paul rolled down your stockings slowly, taking his time with it. His eyes flitted back to yours, his sly look as he took control. His cheeks bunched up as a faint smile played on his lips.

His stomach squished endearingly as he bent over you. Maybe this is what worried him? You thought it was adorable.

Paul’s grin made your chest fill with warmth. It was sad to think he hid away because of insecurity, his lovely body going unseen.

Paul held his shaft gently in his hand. He gave it a firm squeeze in anticipation.

“Ready?” He said.

You grinned at him. His voice seemed so proud, as he normally was, perhaps this was what he was like in his earlier days.

With your encouragement, Paul wasted no time in pushing into you quickly.

As satisfying as it was to take the poised and self-assured man down a few pegs, you did enjoy getting fucked by him a great deal. He was hard, rough, and enthusiastic as you did it. You wondered where he stored all this energy. He definitely didn’t show his age when it came to that.

Paul’s breath was hot on your neck as he pounded into you. All of his skin was exposed, there for you to touch and bite. You pulled his hips closer, forcing him deeper.

Paul groaned and sighed. Hopefully these walls weren’t too thin. He could get quite loud. You didn’t mind hearing that sweet voice fill the room. It was heaven to your ears.

Paul had his elbows braced on either side of your head, gravity aiding him in going deeper. His hips rolled passionately as he chased his release. You clenched around him, just to hear him shout.

You pulled his head by the hair, bringing his ear to your lips.

“Louder, Paul. Make sure the whole floor can hear your sweet moans.” You whispered.

Paul bit his lip and whined. He was giddy from all the praise. You were completely genuine in your words, and Paul could tell, it fueling his lust.

“Tell me.” Paul groaned, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“Tell you what?” You teased.

Paul’s face flushed further. He realized he was asking for praise, which made him bashful.

“You want me to compliment you, Paul?” You giggled “okay.”

“Ah-sorry.” Paul said. He was already overwhelmed by the pleasure buzzing in his abdomen, chasing his release. He knit his brows in concentration, squeezing his eyes shut as he kept fucking you harshly.

You cupped his soft cheeks, making his hazy eyes drift to yours.

“What a lovely thing you are, Paul. You are, you are.” You droned on. Paul’s ears went pink. 

“O lovely Pussy. What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!”

Paul gave you a strange look, trying to decipher your words as his head spun

“Owl and the Pussycat?” He murmured through his haze. He raised an eyebrow, but his eyes were unfocused, cheeks a pretty shade of red.

“Mmm.”

You stroked your fingers through his soft dark hair, sending shivers up his spine.

“M’close, baby.” Paul muttered.

He bowed his head. You took his bottom lip in your mouth, pulling on it. Paul groaned. His voice was getting higher and shakier.

“C’mon, Paul. Let me have it.” You purred. 

You whispered sweet things into his ear. How well he was doing, how pretty he was, how sweet his sounds were. It further encouraged him to cry out.

Soon he was shooting hot spurts into you, his heart beating quickly, humming coming from deep in his throat. You stroked his trembling back as it shook through him. Pleasure moved through his whole body, blooming from his navel.

Paul fell onto you, catching his breath. He softened as his heartbeat slowed. The warmth from his body seeped into you.

The coolness of the room began to get to you as the adrenaline wore off.

“...lights…” You mumbled sleepily from underneath him.

Paul lifted off you, his soft member slipping out your passage. His fluid leaked onto your thighs, only warm a moment before drying.

Your eyes were shut, but you felt Paul’s weight on the mattress shift as he shut off the bedside lamp. The room filled with a calming darkness. 

You cracked open your eyes. You could only just see his dark silhouette as Paul moved. He was turned to you.

Paul reached down, pulling the duvet over his shoulders, before quickly moving back atop you. The warmth provided sufficient relief. Paul’s bare skin was warm as well, clearly an organic thing against you, as you feel him breathe and his heartbeat. Each contour of his body pressed into yours. 

Maybe it was over-familiar, but the weight and heat was comforting, lulling you to sleep. It’d been a long day.

You were about to drift off, when you heard him speak against your neck.

“Thank you,”

“Hmm?” You said groggily. “How come?”

You felt his weight shift atop you. You cracked open your eyes a fraction. He was looking down at you. You could just barely make out his features, and weren’t able to see his expression. The moonlight from the window gave him a sort of halo, and it reflected slightly off his irises. 

His face neared, and you shut your eyes instinctively. He placed a kiss on your forehead. It was strange to be kissed there. Rather wet.

He rested back on you. The weight and warmth lulled you to sleep.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not trying to make an argument for vegetarianism, do what you like. When looking up his reasoning for it, the website said something along the lines of “It's good that Paul is vegetarian, but he should really be vegan if he really cares about animals” lol


	7. Part 7

**23 November 1980**

**Sunday**

You were comfortable when you awoke.

You were laying on your back, a body curled around you. It was doing a good job keeping you warm. Hot breaths fell against your neck, and there was an arm keeping a firm hold on you. The heavy duvet covered you both well.

Paul’s leg was curled around yours. It seemed that he was the type that held onto his partner throughout the night. It was rather sweet. His dark hair tangled with yours.

It was odd. You were terrible at waking up, but when there was another person there you tended to be the first awake.

Maybe you ought to get back to sleep. The sun wasn’t up yet, but that didn’t mean much as in Edinburgh this time of year, sunrise wouldn’t be until well into the morning.

Paul shifted, and his even breaths shuddered a bit.

_ Oh. _

Paul had morning wood. It dug into the side of your thigh. Natural, you supposed. It kept springing up these past couple days. Luckily your lust for him was able to keep up with his libido. You shuddered at the thought of what an unstoppable force he would’ve been twenty years back.

You shifted against it and Paul groaned in his sleep. It was satisfying, the feeling of it. Paul was hot and ready, pressing against your leg. You didn’t want to wake him though. It might still be the middle of the night.

You cracked open your eyes. You were a bit groggy from just waking up, but it seemed that you slept a sufficient amount of time. You weren’t wearing your watch. It must be bundled up with your clothes somewhere.

You lifted your head, a bit hard to do with Paul’s vice grip. You squinted around the dark room. The only sound was distant early-morning traffic and Paul’s gentle breaths.

The digital alarm clock on the nightstand was on Paul’s side of the bed. You had to crane your head to see it, looking over Paul’s sleeping body. 

It said 5:30am. You two had planned to wake at six to be able to make the 7am train.

Paul could tell through his sleep that you were moving in his grasp. His hold tightened, and he shifted, trying to get you closer. You must be a nice warm thing to cling to. It also helped that as he moved his arousal grazed against you, making Paul hum in his sleep.

Your eyes adjusted in the dark. You looked over Paul’s features. He seemed so innocent as he slept, his doe eyes shut and lovely eyebrows relaxed. His soft lips were parted. You couldn’t see much color in the dark, his breaths even. It didn’t seem like he was one to snore.

You traced his cheek lightly. Quite soft. He had slight lines around his eyes, the corners of his nose, and his chin. It didn’t detract from his beauty much. He didn’t look his age much with his pretty face and soft cheeks. Such big eyes too, long eyelashes, a small nose. You ran your thumb slowly down the ridge of it.

His left arm weighed down on you, the hand curled around your side. Paul made sure you wouldn’t inadvertently shift away in your sleep, deny him the warmth. His hair looked quite soft in the moonlight. You ran your hand through it. Paul shivered.

Paul did enjoy being fussed over a great deal, his hair being played with. You enjoyed doing it. Paul liked to be touched and told nice things. He seemed to have been denying himself these things.

Paul shifted his hips in his sleep. He sighed. There was a half hour more he had to sleep, but his erection grazing against your bare skin was driving you mad. Damn Paul and his sweet noises. You didn’t want to wake him up, though, pumping his shaft with your hand before he’d even realized where he was. That seemed a bit cruel.

Oh fuck it.

“Paul.” You whispered.

You stroked his hair, hoping to rouse him gently. Paul’s eyelids twitched, but he didn’t stir.

“Paul.” You repeated a touch louder.

Paul murmured something illegible. He shifted his body slightly.

“Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” You said, smile playing on your lips.

Paul’s eyelids twitched again.

You ran a hand up his warm chest, and he hummed in his sleep.

“C’mon, beautiful dreamer.”

You stroked his cheek with your thumb. Paul’s eyelids fluttered as he began to blink his eyes open.

Paul closed his parted lips between licking, then opening them again. His eyes took a second to register, his mind catching up. He eyed you sleepily.

“Ah, hello.” He said once he composed his thoughts, his voice still thick with sleep.

“We’ve got a half hour before we need to be up...but I couldn’t help but notice you’ve got a problem down below.”

You smiled at him, eyes flitting down to the duvet covering the both of you, then back to his gaze.

“Hmm?” Paul mumbled. He closed his eyes and stretched out his arms, the one atop you uncurling, but resting back down on your waist. “Problem?”

You ran your hand over the curve of his shoulder, massaging the side of his neck. Paul kept his eyes shut, a small smile only just showing his teeth, as he leant into the touch.

The duvet draped over the bend of his hip quite enticingly as he lay on his side.

Paul did look quite peaceful when asleep, but his presence was even more captivating awake. You realized he was this pleasant from the moment he awoke. Paul was always cheerful and easy to smile. That was just the way he was. It was quite infectious, which made him very enjoyable to be around. 

You began stroking the back of his neck, combing through his hair. He let out an audible exhale, tilting his head into it. He curled his arm around you again.

The pleasurable sensation combined with your bare skin against his made Paul’s cock twitch against your leg. That’s his predicament dawned on him. His eyes shot open, as well as his mouth. He raised his eyebrows.

“ _ Oh. _ ” He said. “I see...th’problem…”

You chucked at him. Underneath the covers, you ran your hand along the bare curve of his waist, from his ribcage to his hipbone. You squeezed the meat of his thigh. Paul bit his lips, a jerk of the hips out of instinct.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“Didn’t want to fondle you in your sleep, but if you want a hand, I'll be quite happy to assist.”

Paul hummed as he twitched again. He closed his eyes.

“Please,” he breathed.

You smiled and nodded, having the go ahead. You curled your hand around his length.

It wasn’t desperately erect, but warm and stiff, wanting to be touched.

Paul groaned as the strokes began.

“Look at me.” You said.

Paul’s eyes flitted open, looking back at you. He breathed softly from his parted lips.

You kept stroking him, relishing the feeling of him in your hand. Paul’s breath shuddered.

At a particularly harsh squeeze, Paul sucked in a breath and bent his head down, shutting his eyes. You squeezed again more harshly and Paul hissed.

“Look at me, Paul.” You said.

He raised his head so that he was eye to eye with you, both your heads resting on the pillow. He bit his lip.

“That’s good.” You purred.

Paul understood now. His eyebrows trembled, but he kept his gaze fixed on yours.

Paul’s eyes were a beautiful shape. They tilted downward at the corners, slight crinkles as he focused, along with large eyelids and beautiful dark eyebrows, completing the shape. The arched shape gave him an aloof look when relaxed.

Paul’s breath was shaky, but he obeyed and kept his eyes open. Your pace was slow and steady, making Paul’s lip tremble and shudders go up his back. He focused hard to maintain eye contact. You could feel him harden and grow more aroused. He twitched in your hand as it swelled further.

“Such a sweet thing,” You cooed.

The smoothness and heat of the length was familiar to you now, always welcome against your palm, in your throat, inside you. It was very enjoyable to touch and toy with. 

You adored the way he leaked precum, the sweet scented fluid that beaded at his slit when you touched him just right. You swiped it with your thumb, smearing it around the head.

“S’nice,” Paul murmured from his parted lips in appreciation.

He gasped as you squeezed firmly out of reciprocation. Paul kept his eyes on yours like the good little thing he was. He drew his eyebrows.

You twisted your wrist. Paul hissed, eyes flitting shut for a second, but it was quick enough to not be an issue.

The hotel room’s window was behind you, and the moonlight shone onto Paul. It illuminated his face beautifully, reflecting off his pupil, the moisture between his lips shining.

The only sound in the room was his soft breaths and quiet sounds.

As you continued, Paul’s length grew more worked up. His legs shifted underneath the duvet. He kept the eye contact, but moved his head, soft hair getting mussed up by the pillow.

You weren’t pressed against him like before as to stroke him off easier, but underneath the duvet you could easily feel the heat coming off his body. 

Paul arched his back and his head tilted back. He squinted down at you over his soft cheeks, keeping eye contact. He let out a breathy whine from his lips.

“Let’s have it Paul. C’mon. Give it to me.” 

You held it firmer. Paul’s head tilted forward to its original position. He searched your eyes fervently, never knowing if you’d deny him just to work him up again.

As much as you loved ruining the graceful lad’s composure, you wanted to see him cum. It was a pleasure waking up to the smooth erect heat pressing into you. He must’ve been having nice dreams throughout the night, his body pressed against yours.

Paul’s dick twitched again. You brought your other hand over it, covering the swollen head. Just in time too. The second you covered him, a hot spurt shot onto your palm. Paul gritted his teeth and let out a sound quite ugly. It was strangled and obscene, but it sounded irresistible in his voice. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as you stroked his pulsating shaft.

“Eyes.” You said firmly.

Paul cracked his blurry eyes open, using all his energy to focus on you. He hissed through gritted teeth, keeping his noises down as you were in a hotel and it was quite early.

Your palm became slick with the delicious warmth as Paul cried gently from trembling lips, his teary eyes fixed on yours. You stroked him through it until Paul released every little bit.

You finally let his eyes fall shut as he caught his breath.

You looked over his pretty spent face, over at the clock. 5:55am.

  
  
  



	8. Part 8

**3 December 1980**

**6:30am Wednesday**

It was early on a Wednesday morning, a half hour until the lobby opened to enquiries. No clients were scheduled for the morning, so Paul had sat himself on the reception desk.

You loved his legs, hanging off the edge like that. They were long and slender. He likely didn’t even mean for the gesture to be an enticing one.

The both of you had become rather comfortable with casual conversation. Paul was the sociable type, and would likely be worse off without another presence in his office.

“I’ve got this dinner with some record execs on Friday,” Paul mentioned.

“Oh.” You said. “That’s nice.”

Paul looked at you rather blankly. You looked back. 

Sometimes people would say things to you, but they wouldn't give context, just expecting you to understand what they meant. You often felt like you were missing something...

“Er, yes. I meant if you’d like to come along...”

You were a bit confused.

“How come?” You said. “I could take notes I suppose, but it might be awkward in a restaurant.”

Paul laughed at that.

“No, no, you don’t need to take notes.” He said through amusement. “Jus’ come with me is all. Might be nice. It’ll probably be good for you to sit in as well. We’re a two person firm after all.”

You blew out a breath.

“Well...I’m not licenced to practice law, so I dunno if you could call it that.” You laughed. “Don’t think I’d make it through all that schooling.”

“S’just a lot of memorization.” Paul frowned in thought. “Yer not missing much. Can’t believe I graduated to tell the truth. Never been much of a student.”

You smiled up at him.

“Well, it seems that you’re doing fine for yourself.”

Paul nodded giddily.

“Hmm, yeah. The music stuff I like. Less boring, y’know. I’d go near mad workin’ for Goliath National Bank or somethin.”

“I was in a corporate position before moving here.” You said. “This is definitely more entertaining I’d say. Liked archiving data and the like.”

Paul’s eyes opened wider, a curious look.

“Well, what is it you’d  _ like _ to do...if given the chance?”

You looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t heard much of the like from you.” Paul said. “What field would you like to be in...if you could choose?”

You were a bit at a loss, taken aback by the question.

“Like my dream job?”

“Yeah.”

You hadn’t thought about it really. It seemed like an obvious thing to know. Everybody had goals, didn’t they? Aspirations? It was a question you’d be asked in primary school.

“Uh,”

What  _ did _ you want to do?

God, it was sort of worrying, not a single thought coming to you. You wanted a good position, right? That was your current goal, to get a better position, move up the corporate ladder, succeed in the business world.

If you thought back to when you were younger, of course you had childish ambitions. Like all children did, you had vague ideas of what the far far off future would look like. For most children, the choices presented to them were doctor...teacher...artist...pilot...those sorts of things.

“I don’t know.” You finally said. That was all you could say.

Damn McCartney, making you come to terms with your absence of desire. You’d gone too realistic, and no longer yearned for anything.

Paul’s face was pleasant enough, slightly apologetic. He must’ve picked up on your McCrisis.

“That’s alright. You don’t need to know.” He said. “But is there anything you enjoy? Sort of, where would you like to be in five years?”

Five years. Christ. 1985. You’d be 27. Thinking of it that way made you feel old. Five years wasn’t a very long time.

You were a woman, would you be married by then? Come to think of it, the majority of your peers from back home were married a few years back. Some of them already had toddlers. Some having their second kids even.

Was that what you wanted? To be married with kids? It was the expectation you supposed. You hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it was really creeping on you, wasn’t it? 

The thought was suffocating, giving up the career you’d been working hard at, just to stay at home alone “with the kids”, waiting for your husband to come back in the evenings, tired from his long day. Suppose things had changed in the last 30 years, but the status quo was still in place. You knew the expectation.

Still, you didn’t want to end up alone in your old age, given everything to a position. 

Paul wasn’t married. You wondered why. Suppose it didn’t matter as much for men. They could take their time, and whenever they decided, could marry a younger woman and start a family, their career well established, financially comfortable. Paul might take that route, settle down with a pretty 18 year old in ten years time. Wouldn’t be hard for him, you suspected his beauty would linger even in his older years.

“Suppose I like menial tasks, as boring as that sounds.” You finally said. “I used to work with data a lot, archiving and organizing it. I liked that sort of thing. Compiling records. Rather satisfying.”

“I see.” Paul said. “And for fun, what do you do?”

So many damn questions! Was he trying to kill you?

“What do  _ you _ do for fun, Paul?” You said.

Paul’s cheeks scrunched up as the attention was turned back to him.

“Oh, me?” He said. “There’s loads of stuff I like. The music for one. I like to listen, but also play around with it. I’ve got a piano, you see. When I’m bored I mess around with it.”

Paul took in a breath.

“Also, writing, y’know. Like words. Doesn’t need to mean anything, but I like words that go together. Like, sound good, y’know.”

You smiled.

“Poetry?”

Paul shook his head giddily.

“No, no. Not poetry, really. Doesn’t mean anything, you see.”

“So, you write songs.”

Paul shook his head again.

“Not really, no.” Paul said amused. “Who’d listen to what I’d write anyway? Not exactly a rock star, me. Not the type, am I? Too old anyhow.”

“Well... you could pass for 30.” You said. “Some of the ones who started a bit ago are getting older, but they still do well. Their fans stick around. George Harrison is 37. He just released an album.”

Paul gave you a strange look, only a split second before smiling again.

“M’flattered, thanks.” He said. “Seems a bit late to start though.”

Paul let out a breath.

“You don’t need’to worry. I like what I do.” He said. “The life of a musician could be a rocky one, I should know, y’know! I’m happy workin’ behind the scenes, get to see it all go through.”

You looked over him. Paul was simply genuine in the way he spoke. You wondered where allthe positivity he had came from. He just seemed very...content. 

It didn’t match up with his actions upon meeting him at all. He seemed like a pervert, somebody on a power-trip. Maybe he was, but where he wanted to get his sex and his demeanor was quite different. He didn’t seem to have malice behind it, rather just the thrill, or the convenience.

You slept with him that first night, a bit to put him in his place, mess with him maybe. You were attracted to Paul of course, such a sweet face. You didn’t expect to be here so long. 

“C’mere.” You said, holding out your arms.

Paul raised his eyebrows, but tentatively lifted from his seat.

Paul frequently asked you to join him as he worked, taking a seat on his lap. Though you felt like a pet, it was comfortable. He must like the company, even though you didn’t speak.

Paul moved hesitantly, giving you a questioning look. You gave a nod of affirmations.

Paul gently sat himself across your lap, his arms resting around your neck for balance. 

You pulled him closer, Paul jumping in surprise. You wrapped your arms around his relatively slender waist. It was quite an endearing position for him. 

He was wearing a button up and sweater vest that felt nice against your hands. A soft material that well conducted the heat from his body. Just as good though, was his bare skin hot against yours. You smiled. That was for later.

Paul’s nicely shaped thighs were on yours, his body weight bearing down on you. From this position, Paul’s stomach rested against yours, his arms warm around where he held you.

You gave him a squeeze. You adored the softness around his middle.

“Not too heavy, am I?” Paul said, conscious of himself. It seemed that he was worried about causing you discomfort, not quite relaxing into the position.

“No, no. You’re quite alright.” You assured him, voice gentle.

You pressed a kiss to each soft cheek, hands feeling the curve of his back. Paul let himself relax, leaning into your hold. 

He was a bit heavy. Of course he would be at 5’11”, but it wasn’t so bad that it’d cut off your blood flow. The weight was a comfortable burden to bear. You wanted Paul to let go, forget about his larger presence, and savor the attention on him. 

“You didn’t answer me,” Paul said. His voice was deep and soft in his relaxation. “What do you enjoy?”

You had to take a moment like before. You stroked his back where you held him.

“Ah, honest. I’m not very interested in that aspect.” You said. “All I do is work, or catch a television program. Read a book maybe. I go for walks to get out.”

“Well, that’s still something.” Paul said. “What sort of books?”

You thought to yourself.

“It’s nonfiction...I enjoy history.” You said. “These historical figures and the strange things they do. I’m reading up on the French Revolution at the moment.”

Paul grinned, his eyes crinkling. His joy was a bit overwhelming, so close to your face. You were nose to nose with him.

“See, that’s not nothing.” Paul said cheerily. “You’ve got interests, preferences. Everybody’s got those. You have the free will to choose  _ what  _ books to spend that time on. Wasn’t a random choice, was it?”

“Ah, no.”

You watched him, eyes wide.

“You talk about yourself like you’re absolutely void of aspirations or interests. If that were true, you’d be good as dead, y’know.”

Paul was right. You couldn’t believe him spelling it out for you was what you needed. You felt pathetic at times, really, especially at the things he’d brought up earlier.

“Suppose so,” You said with a faint smile. “Thank you, Paul.”

You pressed a kiss to his petal lips, indulging in them. It seemed that he enjoyed his position, seated in your lap, arching his back into it. He needed to be the pretty thing being tended to once in a while. 

Your arms curled around the dip of his waist. It’d only be so long until the office opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got the bank reference, you’re the real one.
> 
> Paul is a sort of manic pixie dream girl lol. Main character’s life doesn’t have a direction, quirky love interest makes them reconsider things. Does quirky things.


	9. Part 9

**12 December 1980**

**7:50pm Friday**

  
  


Paul said he’d be around at eight with a car.

A strange invitation. You had no reason to deny it though. It was simply a dinner with record execs. You didn’t know how you’d fit into it though, you wouldn’t have anything to contribute. 

You frowned at yourself in the mirror. Of course you had to dress for the occasion. You’d washed your hair.

Suppose it was to be expected. You were a secretary, but that also came with the caveat of being the “young woman” in a company. You could be brought to dinners as a prop of sorts. Eye candy if you will. You certainly felt like that in your earlier working days, starting out as a secretary. It was a drag, really, but it was whatever, you supposed.

You were giving your hair a little wave that’d curl at the end. You didn’t care for the large styles much, all that product. Besides, having your hair coarse like that, the strands tickling your neck, seemed to drive you mad. It was a drag really, but little things like that, certain fabrics touching you even, made it hard for you to think. You didn’t understand it.

You wore a dark dress, dark hosiery, low heels. The dress draped around your shoulders, showing your collar-bone, leaving your arms bare. It flowed along your curves, coming just above the knee. You never wanted to look like a tart at these sort of things, then nobody would take you seriously. However if you overcorrected in the opposite direction, wore a man’s suit, they’d still think you daft. You snorted. What a line to walk!

It was still December, an intense chill in the air. You wore your overcoat.

You stepped out into the cold, searching the dark street. You wrapped your overcoat tight. Luckily it was warmer than the one you’d brought to Edinburgh. It must’ve just rained, as the concrete shone in the light of the streetlamps. It would likely do so many times over the course of the night.

You wandered to the sidewalk, breaths condensed in the cold air.

You barely had to wait a minute before a car rolled up.

“Ey!”

You held your coat tight, thankful to get out of the cold. Paul pushed open the door, and swiftly pulled you in. You landed on him, and he gave you a squeeze, before scooting back.

“How’s it?” He said.

“Aye, s’good.”

He squeezed your arm.

It was damned nice it the car, a whole lot warmer. You felt the feeling come back into your nose and ears. You didn’t flush as easily as Paul, but they would probably be pinkened. You noticed the car had a divider up.

“You look nice, all done up like.” Paul said.

“Ah, just a little extra I suppose.”

Paul ran a hand through your styled hair, fingers teasing at the curl. He had on an overcoat as well, but it seemed that he had a starched shirt underneath.

“Feels like we’re stepping out, in’t it?”

“Hmm, yeah.” You said. “Going out on the town.”

Paul’s eyes flashed, a thought going through him. As the car began to move, the lights of the city outside played across his bunched up cheeks. It was dark in the car. He began to sing a jaunty tune.

“I’m steppin’ out with m’baby...Can’t go wrong ‘cause I’m in right… it’s for sure, not for maybe...That I’m all dressed up tonight…!”

You’d suspected as much, but Paul had quite the bubbly singing voice. Sweet too. Very sweet. You beamed at him.

“Don’t know that one.” You said.

“You don’t?” Paul looked up in thought. “Was in a film. Fred Astaire sang it...Easter Parade, I think.”

“Must’ve been before my time…” You thought back. “Fred Astaire...he was the tap dancing fellow wasn’t he?”  
  
“That’s the one!” Paul said. He slipped back into the tune. “...Steppin’ out with my honey...Can’t be bad to feel so good...Never felt quite so sunny...And I keep on knockin’ wood…”

It was a bouncier tune, but you’d bet on Paul being able to bring a man to his knees with a ballad. Despite yourself, his endless upbeat demeanor made you feel warmth inside. It came so easily to him. He never felt embarrassed about it either, never too prideful to make himself seem childish. 

As he kept singing, Paul got more into it, exaggerating the swing of the tune.

“...There’ll be smooth sailin’...’Cause I’m trimmin’ my sails...With my top hat...And my white tie and my tails…!”

“You’ve got a lovely voice, Paul.” 

Your genuine tone seemed to throw him off, breaking the lighter banter. He pressed his lips together in a small smile, looking a bit bashful.

“Ah, really?” He said. “Thank’ya.”

“Well, yes.” You said. “Got any more?”

Paul faltered for a second. He moved his lips, before jumping back in, his cheery grin returning. 

“Steppin’ out with my baby...Can’t go wrong ‘cause I’m in right...Ask me when, will that day be...The big day...may be...tonight…!”

He ended with a flourish, a nod of his head.

Your hand moved to his chin, gently holding it. You simply smiled at him. Paul seemed happy with himself, looking back at you puffed up.

Perhaps you’d let the desire show through your eyes. It was always there when you looked at him. Paul was rather desirable after all. Whatever it was, Paul took it as an invitation.

His lips were on your neck, his body pressed closer. That damn body, warm and soft, very inviting. It was great to touch. You hadn't taken him since Tuesday. It made sense if he was wound up, you were too. You wouldn’t mind having him every single night if you could.

Still…

“Ey, behave yourself!” You teased, under your breath. “We’re in a car, Paul!”

Paul’s nose dragged against your cheek. He simply gave one of his low giggles.

“S’alright, the divider’s up…” His tone was low and suggestive. “Surely we could have a little…”

His lips were on your neck, then...a nip! He fucking nibbled on it.

“Oi!” You said, then under your breath, “That’s enough of _that_ now. Can’t be showing up with marks all over me neck!”

You braced your arms against him, but Paul didn’t let up, amused by it all.

“How’re they supposed to know who yer with?” He said.

“Oh, ho!” You said. “That much should be obvious! Showin’ up with me aren’t you?”

Then your voice lowered a touch.

“You can be sure nobody’s gonna take me off ya.” 

Paul’s lips stopped, perking up at your sudden shift in demeanor. 

“Ey?” Pal murmured suggestively.

You took his hair, firmly, yet slowly, pulling his head back. You met his eyes darkly.

“M’more worried about _you_ bein’ taken off _me._ ” you said. “All eyes will be on ya, believe me.”

Paul seemed taken aback again. His eyes widened, despite his eyebrows remaining relaxed. His lips parted.

“Eh?”

Your eyebrows intensified further, looking deep into him. Your voice was low.

“You’re a damn catch, if you should know.”

“Ah.” Paul said. His face was a bit pink. Seems that you’d flustered him. Must have not expected it to be turned onto him. Not very common, was it?

Flattery really shook him up, dropping his cocky attitude. Now you were the one who wanted to mark up his neck…show them who he was “with.”

You could damn well take him in the back of this car. You sure as hell wanted to. He drew you in like always, such gentle features, and demure eyes, even when he wasn’t trying. It made you want to fuck him blind. He’d let you, too.

Your left hand came to his thigh, a firm hold on top of it. You leaned into him, your face closer. Your nose grazed against his cheek. Such a sweet scent, the perfect one for him. It was a bit subdued compared to that of his arousal. That one was intense and intoxicating, taking over every one of your senses. You’d breathe it in, drunk off of it as Paul writhed beneath you.

Still...you pulled back, hand on his thigh lighter. _Not here,_ you thought. 

It’d be no good to show up to dinner disheveled, makeup smeared. It would be obvious what you’d done. It’d be _you_ who it’d reflect on poorly. A secretary with loose morals, an easy fuck for her boss. No wonder he’d brought you along, putting on a charade. 

Well, you _wanted_ to fuck Paul. If you didn’t, you would’ve given him a _hard_ piece of your mind that first night. What a randy bastard he was, too.

“You ought to behave yourself, bunny.” You teased. “You’ll fuck yourself into a stupor if you’re not careful.”

Paul gave a laugh at that.

“I’m not so much of a deviant, y’know.” He shot. “Didn’t go around whacking off on trains before _you_ came along.”

“Ha! Was still a naughty little thing though.” Your voice turned sweet. “Can’t say it’s not a thill, Paul. You’re the thrilling sort.”

“Thrilling…” Paul grinned, head in the clouds.

He brought one of your hands to his mouth on a whim, lips brushing your fingertips. That certainly made a shudder go down your spine. Those damn lips, and such lidded eyes boring into you.

Thankfully, you didn’t end up having a quickie in the car. It stopped in front of the restaurant, and you checked your hand mirror to make sure Paul hadn’t mussed up your face.

Paul then turned his head, coming in front of you. He looked over your face, squinting at it.

“Y’look fine.” He said offhandedly. “Jus’ a bit…”

Paul popped a finger in his mouth. He rubbed a spot to the right of your lip. 

Your mind went blank, rather taken aback. It was over in an instant, gone as soon as it came.

“Lipstick…” He mumbled.

You blinked, then flipped your mirror shut.

It had seemed Paul had already forgotten, moving to get out of the car.

It should’ve been gross maybe, but you didn’t find a part of him dirty, really. You’d sucked on that lovely tongue regularly, put your lips all over his body, eagerly took in his sweet release, that lovely voice in your ears. 

You wondered how he’d look, lips red with rouge. They did become pink, if only slightly, when your own makeup transferred. His pretty face would look quite nice done up, long eyelashes curled, those petal lips nice and dark.

You’d make it into the restaurant. It wasn’t somewhere you’d go for yourself, the dishes were much too expensive. Luckily, the record company was footing the bill, a business expense.

Though Paul tended to have a hold on you when walking out, it was only a short distance from the car. It was better he didn’t. It wasn’t illegal, but not a good look. Not very professional, not on your part anyway.

Paul wouldn’t get flack for it. Good on him, getting “favors” from his secretary. 

The thought humored you. They weren’t there the previous Monday, Paul’s hands bound with his tie as you ran your hands down his thighs, purposefully avoiding the desperate hard-on he begged and pleaded for you to touch.

The both of you shook hands with the execs, them giving you a nod. Paul introduced you solely by name. A bit strange, you wondered if he mentioned you were his secretary.

You didn’t have much to say. You didn’t know much about the technicalities of law, especially music law, just from working as a receptionist for not quite four months. You were able to follow the conversation somewhat, recognizable topics from the work you’d been doing. Suppose Paul wanted you in the loop for future reference.

The dinner came to a close, your respective dishes becoming lesser. It was getting later in the night.

“Well, this was grand. Good talk.”

Handshakes were given as a parting. The second gentleman lingered on you a moment too long. You gave him a look.

The men began to make their way out. Paul and you stood up as well, getting your things together. Paul turned to you.

It was always a bit of a surprise to you, looking up at him. He did have a good half-foot on you. It seemed that who had the moment’s dominance would constantly be in flux. 

You did like Paul’s presence though, large and soft and warm. It was rather comforting, and he was at the same time slender with his femininity.

  
  


“Jus’ pop by and get our coats, and we’ll be good, hm?” He said.

You nodded at him. They would be just down the hall here.

As you walked, there was another corridor that tapered off from the main path, a bit darker and out of the way. You felt Paul’s hand close around your wrist.

“Say,” He said, quiet from his lips. You’d stopped walking. He was giving you the side-eye.

“Hm?”

Paul rolled his head on his shoulders.

“Haven’t since last Tuesday...was it?”

His voice was suggestive. You tilted your head, looking at him slyly.

“Ey?” you said.

Paul’s fingers played upon your wrist as he held it. He glanced at the connecting corridor, then back at you. No hint of anybody coming upon you.

You looked at him coyly, his intentions clear.

“You’re asking for it in this here corridor, Paul?” You said with amusement.

Paul’s face scrunched up, eyes closing, then opening again.

“Er, s’not that...but somethin’...” 

He trailed off, eyes getting darker. His hand ran up your arm, closing around your shoulder.

Such a large hand, despite its prettiness. It was all the more clear when it was closed around your body. You looked up at him.

You put your hands to his upper navel, applying gentle pressure. Paul went along with your lead, allowing you to move his back to the wall. A sound escaped his lips. 

You ran your hands higher, curling around the curve of his shoulders. He was dressed in a suit, all nice and proper. Paul loved it. He loved hands on him, taking the pressure off of him. He didn’t need to take the lead.

Your body was light against his. You leaned in closer, your nose brushing his cheek. Such a nice scent. Your lips grazed against his neck. There was less of a concern now, but it’d be conspicuous, walking out the restaurant with his tie loosened, hair mussed up, and lipstick marks all over his face an neck.

Paul’s hips pressed to yours, him letting out a soft sweet sound.

“Don’t get hard on me now,” You teased.

Paul grumbled, lips mumbly.

“S’been _three days,_ that’s a lot to ask. Feel like explodin’ I do.” 

“Three days, Paul?” You said. “You’ve got a problem if that’s all it takes to get you this wound up.”

“Shaddup.” he mumbled.

“Hah,” you said. 

Your hand ran up his hip, a lingering touch, playing with the suit’s material. Paul’s eyes were shut, savoring it, mouth parted as he breathed.

“You need it badly, don’t you?”

“Aye.” Paul muttered.

You brought your lips to hips, deepening it only a touch. Paul’s hands were on you as well, on your hips. You pressed a leg between his, pinning him closer to the wall. He groaned. Paul wasn’t hard, but had certainly begun to stir.

“You want it tonight, Paul?” You said against his lips.

“Ooh, yes, please, please,” Paul breathed. He was fully open, accepting each touch. He knew what you desired, and he allowed you to have him any way you wanted. He trusted you to pleasure him.

You gave a gentle squeeze to his hips. Your lips grazed his cheek.

“We gotta go somewhere, we can’t do this here.” You said.

Paul let out one of his low giggles, you could hear it vibrate through his chest.

“Why not?”

You made a “tsk” sound.

“Come on, Paul, even I’m not that much of a deviant.” You teased.

Paul giggled again, his body moving with it.

“How’s it differen’t from the train?” He said. “Could’ve been caught there, y’know.”

“Come’on. Was no chance of that. Wouldn’t have done’it if there were.”

You stroked his navel lower and he purred. An actual purr! You loved hearing what noises you could draw out of him. It had been nearly four months, and he still managed to excite you.

“Oh, I’d love to take you here,” You salivated, indulging him. “Lay you down on the table right in the restaurant, in front of _all_ those people.”

That seemed to fluster him. He blinked at you.

“They’d love it as well,” You continued. “You beautiful thing...You’d give them all an _unforgettable_ show, Paul. Get them all hot and bothered.”

You brought your mouth to his pretty ear.

“They’d want a taste of you, but they wouldn’t be able to have you…” 

Your voice got even lower. 

“You’re _mine..._ see?”

You took his earlobe between your teeth. Paul’s entire body was stiffened with lust. He _loved_ this. He loved to be desired. It turned him on in some way. It was clear to see. You were very pleased to indulge him. You meant it too.

Paul had a good six inches on you, and was much stronger, yet he was acting like you had the upper hand, weak to your desires. You couldn’t get enough.

“Aren’t you, Paul?” You repeated, low in your voice.

Paul nodded quickly. With your head still buried in his neck, he shivered as you nipped and kissed it, hands flat on his chest.

Your voice was still deep.

“We need to go, Paul.” You said. You ran your hands down his chest, along his soft curved sides. You squeezed at the softness gently, promting a soft moan.

“Paul...let’s go.”

He nodded quickly again, but made no move to detach himself, arching his back into your touches.

Your hot breaths landed on his sweet-scented neck. His chest moved, Paul’s own breaths becoming shallow.

“It’s so good to take you…” You said deeply. “You feel so good, always so desperate and swollen. It’s the perfect fit, y’know...curves just right...want to take you again.”

Paul shook his head in exasperation. 

“M’gonna be limpin’ to the fuckin’ cab if ya keep tha’ up.” Paul mumbled dizzily.

You pulled away from his neck, looking up at his face.

“Where do we go?”

“Dunno, I, I,” Pal began. He wet his lips, trying to get his mind to catch up. “What’s closer?”

“This area’s much too upscale. My apartment’s rather far.” You chuckled.

“Ah.” Paul breathed. “Mmm, Its...My place’s closer. S’closer I think. Don’t wanna go all the way to the office to fuck. There’s no point in tha’.”

You looked him in the eye questioningly.

“You sure?”

Paul’s pale cheeks were flushed, his hair slightly disheveled, but he didn’t seem overtly dizzy. He nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s go to my place. S’fine.”

You raised your eyebrows.

You left the dark corner you’d hidden away in, Paul’s hand resting on the curve of your back. You were easily able to hail a cab.

Whenever you were walking outside, it seemed that Paul had a grip on you, whether it be a hand on your back, around your arm, or shoulders. As you hadn’t said anything to the contrary, he allowed himself to do so. Paul seemed to be a touchy type of person. He loved to be touched, but liked touching you as well. Must be a comfort for him.

In the cab even, he had a hold on your forearm. When you arrived, he curled an arm around your waist.

You felt strange going to his place. It seemed invasive in a way. 

Somebody’s place was their home, something very personal. Every time you’d have him, it was always in the office, usually after hours. A workplace fling was a workplace fling, but bringing it to his house made it concrete.

Paul’s flat was in Islington, just north of the city center. He guided you in, taking his keys out and wordlessly opening the door to the dark apartment.

“Come in,” He said. His voice was low and relaxed.

You followed him in delicately, not wanting to overstep. You felt that you were intruding on something. Paul seemed less bothered.

He hung his coat on the coat rack, then went to take yours as well. You allowed it, and he hung it up.

The door opened into a very comfortable living area. To the right was a large window, looking out over the old buildings and commercial spaces. The heavy linen curtains were open, the lights of the city and the moonlight streaming in. 

To the left was a kitchenette, complete with appliances. A counter provided a separation between it and the living area. The center led off into a hallway, likely connecting to bedrooms.

The homeyness and older oak furniture reminded you of his office. The living area had a record player, bookshelf, and oak coffee table, an empty vase on it.

  
  


You wandered over to it. Paul had only one shelf of LPs, not as much considering the multitude he had at the office. One of them rested on the top of the shelf, likely played recently, was Beach Boys Pet Sounds.

“I remember this one…” You said. You were afraid to touch it though, or pick it up, with the knowledge that this wasn’t your home, and these weren’t you things.

“Oh?” Paul smiled. He set his keys down on the entry-way table, then made over.

“Funnily enough, I keep most of my records at the office. I’m there more often anyway. Got my favorites here.”

Paul picked up the album, looking over the cover.

“God yeah, I love this album.” He said. “Y’know, my favorite song is on here.”

“Which one?” You said.

Paul smiled wider, turning the album over. 

“God Only Knows. Incredible song.” He said.

Your favorite was the _Put Your Head on my Shoulder_ one. Pet Sounds was one of the first records you’d asked your parents for. It was big at the time, its songs playing on the radio often. _Wouldn’t It Be Nice_ must’ve resonated with your eight year old self.

Paul delicately took the record from the sleeve, holding it in his hand. He looked back at you.

“Fancy a listen?”

You watched him with your lips slightly parted, a distant look in your eye. It was an oddly calming environment. You nodded.

Paul placed it on the turntable lightly, bringing the needle down. The album began with the first few bars of _Wouldn’t It Be Nice._

You adored the song back when you were younger. It _would_ be nice, wouldn’t it? To be older. A good tune as well. Now you dreaded the thought.

Paul was older than you. He seemed to be doing alright.

You looked to him, his face lit up hearing the album begin to play.

“It’s a rather good album, isn’t it?” You said, smiling at him.

Paul turned to you, his cheeks bunched up.

“Yeah.” He said.

Paul reached out to you. He held you by the sides, then fell to the couch, pulling you down. His arms tightened around your waist.

His heart was beating quite quickly. You could feel his chest gently rise and fall, soft breaths landing warm beside your ear. It was quite comfortable. You relaxed into it, resting your head back. His arms held you snugly.

“Good isn’t it?” Paul repeated, a simple tone in your ear.

You kept listening, relaxed in the hold. Paul’s heartbeat slowed a touch, adrenaline dissipating. Quite the excitable fellow he was. You were unsure if you’d meet anyone quite like him.

You listed through the next couple tracks, then you heard the familiar intro to _Don't Talk (Put Your Head on My Shoulder)._

“Ah, this one’s my favorite.” You said, a lazy smile on your face.

You’d been drifting away a bit. It was later on a Friday night after all. You’d been working since six thirty, then had gone to the dinner. Paul was damn comfortable. You could have a good night’s sleep right here.

“Is it?” Paul said. “I don’t remember it playing often.”

“Ah, no, I _had_ the album, y’know.”

“You did?” Paul thought to himself, trying to do the math. “Uhm...how old would you’ve been…?”

“I was eight. It was the first album I’d asked my parents to buy. It was a birthday gift.”

Paul’s hum fell silent. His arms around you loosed a touch.

“Er, I-” Paul stammered. His mind seemed to stall at the reminder.

  
It was obvious that you were around your early 20s, but you didn’t recall telling him your exact age. The thought seemed to have slipped his mind. You forgot at times as well, but he had a good 15 years on you. Paul would’ve been 23 when the album came out, a year older than you now.

You looked back at him lazily. Paul had a bit of a conflicted look, gazing down at you. Perhaps it was the insecurity creeping back.

You relaxed your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. Your hands closed around the ones gently resting on your middle. Paul’s eyes fell shut gently.

“When did you first hear it?” You said softly.

“Oh, I...” Paul said, low in his voice. “Was a while back…”

  
His arms were snug around you again.

“Was a good day I bought it. A good day it first came on the radio too…” Paul said. “Seems like a lifetime ago.

You shut your eyes. Paul’s chest gently moved as he spoke, the vibrations going through you, the voice in your ear. He did have a lovely voice.

It wasn’t a moment before the final A-side track began to play its last bars. The music went silent, only the sound of the needle going around the end. The record stopped turning.

Paul sat up slightly, moving you off. He turned the disk over, placing the needle on it. The intro to _God Only Knows_ began to play. A smile grew on his face. 

You looked over at him in the same fashion, a lazy fondness. He was graceful in his movements as much as his appearance. Such a pretty thing. Paul would likely stay lovely for a while, even as more lines appeared on his face and his hair turned light. His simple presence was attractive, his mannerisms and cheerful demeanor.

Paul turned to you, the dim light from the lamp giving his eye a subtle gleam. It reflected off his cheeks. What a pretty thing. He was looking at you too, in a content manner.

“Good isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You said, breath soft.

You held out your arms, drawing Paul closer. He moved over as if in a dream. He rested down on your lap, body leaning into you. His stomach was pressed to yours, knees resting on either side of you.

It was your arms that curled around him this time, holding him snugly. Paul’s arms rested on your shoulders, his forehead resting against yours. Those dark lidded eyes were right in front of yours looking deep.

They were lovely, but eye contact always seemed to set off your nerves. You’d never known why. Still, you couldn’t look away, despite the uptick in your heartbeat and the breath held in your throat.

Paul’s weight grounded you, his heat enveloping your form. Every contour of his body pressed against you. His stomach was nice and soft, and you could feel his breaths and heartbeat. His arms moved slightly, arching his back, trying to find a comfortable position.

Paul was heavy, but it was pleasant. You enjoyed supporting him like this, Paul not having to give the comfort in every instance. He deserved to be taken care of just as much, the sweet thing.

Your hands played at the fabric of his suit coat. Your mouth was on his neck, finally able to leave red kiss marks without worry. Paul tilted his head for better access. A shiver went up his back.

“Wound tight, aren’t you Paul? Always eager for it.”

Paul hummed, low in his throat. His eyes were shut.

“So eager, Paul. You were begging for it in the restaurant too, hm? Very naughty…”

Paul’s back arched, the words stirring something inside him. He yearned to be taken care of again, for you to _take_ him.

You gave a nip to his neck, harder than the one he gave you in the car. Paul gasped. It wasn’t a crime to leave a mark was it? He had the weekend, and he could wear a turtleneck if need be. It was December after all. You smiled. Show who he was “with.” Ha.

You felt the familiar smugness come over you as Paul began to harden against your navel. He was getting excited from the anticipation of what was to come. Your hands tightened on his back.

“Getting worked up, Paul?” You murmured into his ear.

Paul shifted on your lap, the hard-on grazing against you. He let out a breath.

Your hands moved lower. Paul had quite the ass on him as well, pushing out the suit coats he wore.

Your lips had moved upwards, teasing at his earlobe.

“Ah! S’...” Paul said, a bit suddenly.

“Hm?” You said, still beside his ear.

Paul shifted again. His back was tense.

“Don’ tease...God, s’been a good bit...feel like m’gonna explode...c’mon…” Paul droned on, his voice nearly whiny.

You pulled back to look at his face. Paul’s lips were parted as he took in breaths. His eyes were wide with anticipation, pale cheeks flushed, hair mussed up. It was nice and neat back in the restaurant. You leaned forward, taking his lips. Paul braced himself on his arms, keeping his balance. Paul let you in, and you tasted him, pulling on his full bottom lip.

“Delicious mouth you’ve got.” You mumbled into his lips. Paul’s body stiffened in pleasure. He hummed into the kiss, low in his throat.

You retreated, then unbuttoned his suit coat. You loosened his tie, then began on his dress shirt. So many little buttons...

Paul’s lovely chest was slowly revealed. Thankfully, it seemed that Paul had become less insecure with you seeing him since Edinburgh. Still though, you only took him at the office, and it was impractical to undress too much. You’d unbuttoned his shirts, revealing that soft chest and stomach, feeling it press against the thin fabric of your blouses. 

It had been nearly a month since that night in Edinburgh, and since then you hadn’t seen his lovely body in its entirety. As you slid off Paul’s dress shirt, desire grew inside you. You’d get to see it tonight. 

You ran gentle hands down the warm bare skin, Paul’s heat and heartbeat against your palms. Your eyes drifted down the curve of his hips, to where he strained his dress trousers. How endearing it was, so desperate. Your hands tightened on his hips. It was like a present for you to unwrap, and despite Paul’s hastiness, you enjoyed savoring it. Poor thing would need to be patient.

Your hands found his trouser buttons, undoing them, zipping down his fly. Paul groaned in relief at the strain being removed. You pressed your hand to where the soft fabric of his briefs stretched around him. Paul’s hips jumped, sucking in a breath. His heartbeat quickened.

“You wouldn’t look half bad wearing satin…” You mused, mostly to yourself.

“Eh?”

Your eyes flitted up to his face, smiling at Paul’s flustered expression.

“You don’t have to…” You said. “...But some shiny fabric...your lovely prick stretching it out...it’ll look delightfully obscene.”

You increased the pressure, hand closing around his length through his briefs. Paul hissed, eyes squeezing shut, head tilting back. 

You gave it another lingering squeeze. Paul didn’t hold back the deep prolonged moan he let out, back straightening, pretty lips opening, hands braced on the couch to keep himself up.

“Ah…” Paul groaned. You kept the pressure around his knob. Poor thing must be really pent up. But three days? Really, Paul?

Paul’s hips jerked.

“God, s’...please, c’mon…” He whined.

Paul’s voice was heightening, breaths becoming shorter. His knob was already painfully hard and hot in your hand, pushing out the soft cotton. He was raging to go.

You held Paul under his arms, moving him around to beside you on the couch. He was heavy, so he simply let himself be guided by your hands. Paul’s eyes were still wide. You lowered him to his back, then you were on him. Paul gave a pleasured hum once your lips were back on his.

You held him by the bend of his knee, raising his leg so it curled around you. Funny. This would be a good position if you were the one fucking _him._ At times you wanted to, make him feel as good inside as he did you. You could stroke him off, taste his mouth, feel his long legs wrapped around you tight, coaxing you deeper, his sweet low cries, the way his back arched.

Paul ground against you, his hips moving out of instinct. His leg tried to bring you closer. He was still wearing his shoes, and it was very uncomfortable against your back. It was a classier one with a leather sole, making his foot look all nice and arched-like. It was much less nice knocking jerkily against your lower back.

“Ey! Shoes, Paul!” You winced.

Paul’s eyes flitted open slightly, his pink cheeks, needing a second to make sense of the words.

You sat up on your heels. You took one of Paul’s shapely ankles in your hand, raising it, untying the laces.

You slipped off the shoe, giving the other the same treatment. Paul watched lazily through lidded eyes, dick still straining his briefs through his undone fly, shallow breaths coming from parted lips, pinkened by your lipstick.

Once freed, you pulled off his dress trousers, revealing his shapely legs, pale skinned with dark fuzzy hair.

You ran your hands up them, feeling the bend of his knee. They were as nice as you remembered. 

“What lovely legs, Paul.” you mused, touching them with your gaze.

They shifted in your hold, Paul’s focus more on the throbber between them. He gave a huff of frustration. Paul jerks his hips in instinct.

“Have I been too soft, Paul?” You teased, drawing it out. “I thought I’d since taught you to have patience…” 

Paul’s eyes shot up to you quickly, inhaling sharply. You smiled down at him with sweetness, hunger in your wide eyes. You moved your palm slowly, caressing his thigh.

“Perhaps I have…” You continued. “A sweet thing like you should know how to wait, hmm?”

Paul’s face was pink, clear understanding of what you meant.

“Ah! Can’t!” Paul said quickly, voice breathy. His tone became whiny, his eyes falling shut. He arched into your touch, trying to coax it higher. “Oh, _please_ , baby, need’it badly…!”

You leant over him, lips grazing his cheek, smile on your face. Your eyes shut. One of your hands ran over the curve of his hip. Paul was entirely undressed save his briefs.

“But you’re so _sweet_ when you _beg,_ Paul…” You purred. Paul gave another breath of frustration, neediness clear. “It’s _such_ a good look on you…”

Paul raised his hips, making you lift off of him. Paul whined, lips pressed into a line, eyebrows drawn.

You sat up, sliding off his briefs. Paul raised his hips in aid, anything to get him where he needed. You lifted his lovely thighs, pushing them up and apart. It made more cold air hit his desperate heated areas. Paul held his breath, head tilted back, eyes closed. His back arched. The scent of his arousal overwhelmed you. It was always so sweet, so _needy_. Paul was rather intoxicating a drug.

You brought your head down, taking that sweet knob in your mouth, a hand closing gently around his balls.

“Hell!” Paul yelped. His hips shot up from the sudden pleasure. You took your mouth off, pushing Paul’s hips firmly down on the couch. Paul whimpered at the loss of contact, your hands so close to where he needed it. 

“Hold still, yeah?” You said. Your hands tightened for emphasis, your voice lowering. “Be good…”

Paul bit his lip. His hips shuddered at your tone. Damn, it gave him a thrill, being spoken to like this. Kinky bastard. It certainly gave you a rush of satisfaction as well. Paul made a garbled “aaghh” sound from his throat, his back lengthening.

Paul’s eyelids fluttered as your hand gently curled around his length. Another garbled moan.

“Cute noises, rabbit.” You said. “Cry your heart out, I don’t mind.”

His eyes fluttered to meet yours. You moved it slightly in your hand, and Paul cried, tossing his head back, fighting to keep his hips still.

You thought to yourself as he trembled, hand slowly stroking him off, pinpricks of much needed pleasure shooting up his hips into his navel, that you could go for some rough McLovin from this man. Paul deserved it, being so good, having waited so long. He was such a pretty thing.

“Paul…” you said.

His eyes shot open, looking at you with them wide, need buzzing beneath them.

“You wanna have me, Paul?”

His mouth fell open, lips parting. He nodded sharply, flushed cheeks.

You leaned back on the couch, beckoning Paul closer. His eyes shot open even wider, quickly sitting up. He scrambled over to you, hands grabbing your hosiery and…

You threw your hands up.

“Paul! Wait! Don’t-”

Too late. Paul had torn it open, pulling your undergarment to the side, then swiftly pushing himself in in one fluid motion. The tension immediately left his body as he gasped in relief, a shuddering breath. His eyes fell shut, and he began to move, pushing your legs apart by the knees.

“...tear my stockings...Paul…” You groaned.

His eyes flitted open, blurrily looking down at you as he moved his hips, grinding himself against you. It seemed that his mind had taken leave.

“Srry…” Paul’s voice was garbled and breathy, very light headed. “I’ll buy ya’new ones...Ooh hell!”

Paul’s head bowed, crying out as his pace got rougher, getting into a rhythm. His breaths got more shallow, hot pants landing on your shoulder. 

Paul’s speed shocked you even at times. He began to get more into it, desperately chasing his release. He pushed your legs higher, trying to go deeper. A bead of sweat from his forehead landed onto you, his body weighing down on yours. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your foreheads touching. Paul’s eyes looked hazily up at yours, lines appearing under them in focus. His lips were parted, such hot breaths. Ever so often they’d be audible, little groans, deep in his throat.

You tangled a hand in his hair. A light tug sent a wave of arousal through Paul’s body, moaning deep in surprise, hips shuddering.

You smiled wide.

“You like having your hair pulled?” You said in excitement. “Ooh, Paul…”

His eyebrows furrowed in intensity. He let out another wet breath.

He raised your leg higher, and you curled it around his back. You tugged again, and Paul whined, higher this time. You grinned smugly at him, his little pink face.

Paul surely knew how to fuck a woman, despite his focus on his own pleasure. His pace was always so rough and hard when you gave him control.

You pushed up his bangs, hot with condensation. Paul leaned into your hand, his eyes fluttering open before closing tight again.

You wrapped both legs around him, coaxing him deeper. Paul was the perfect size inside you, curved just right. He was about ready to burst too, hard, hot and swollen, twitching in desperation. Paul needed this, didn’t he? The desire to cum overtaking all else.

“Ey, my turn, Paul.” You said. 

His eyes shot open, looking at you confused. 

You pushed him to his back. Now you were on top. 

You braced your hands on Paul’s soft chest, then began to move. Christ, it felt good!

Paul’s back arched, getting back into it. His hands shot to your hips, gripping them tight as he cried out. 

You liked Paul like this, underneath you and desperate. Yes, you’d take good care of him. Your hands braced on him pushed him down, fucking him with the same harshness Paul had previously. His hands squeezed tight at your hips, face frozen in pleasure, mouth open and brows drawn as his desperate sounds filled the room.

It was satisfying, Paul being the only one unclothed. You preferred it that way. The focus should be on him, the loveliest thing in the room. He’d be pleasured, his lovely body touched all over. You didn’t need a strong dominant man to “take care” of you. You wanted a pretty thing like Paul to fawn over, his sweet voice in your ears better than any flattery. 

Paul’s mouth opened wide, his lips moving, trying to speak. It was difficult with his labored breaths.

“M’almost…!” Paul managed to get out before it devolved into a cry.

“C’mon bunny, let yourself go…”

Paul cried out in response, coming out strangled, his hands tighter than ever on your hips, pulling you down harshly. He fucked up into you at an erratic pace. 

You braced yourself on your arms to keep balance, but allowed it, the sensation intensifying. You cried out his name, even your composure breaking. Pleasure buzzed throughout your entire abdomen. Paul’s efforts were making you come undone. Your head bowed at the intensity.

Luckily Paul was too far gone to make anything of it, in the same predicament as you. He gave a few more jerky thrusts (Christ, his strength), then he was cumming. His voice shot up high, and you felt the first hot burst shoot into you, then another, then another. He cried out your name, and you called back, voice breaking in your throat. You landed on his body, your breaths coming hard. Paul’s hands were still on your hips, fucking every drop out of him as his chest heaved. Your cheek was pressed hard to his bare chest, and his breath was hot, landing on the top of your head.

Paul whimpered as he came down from his violent release, his grip relaxing if only slightly. He rolled his hips again one last time, the tension leaving his body as he softened inside you.

You felt a weight all over your body, your limbs heavy. Paul’s body was hot, cooling back down, his skin damp, and his heart rate gradually slowing as he caught his breath. Your cheek rested on his soft chest, just below his head. Paul let out a breath of relief.

Your heartbeat slowed as well, eyes shut and fucked out, weary from the week. Paul’s breaths became deeper. He’d softened inside you, still warms. His fluids slowly leaked out, down to where you were connected, cooling as they met the air. Paul’s hands detached from your hips, curling around your back. He sighed in contentment, holding you snug.

The record had ended a while ago, the only sound being his soft breaths. Your head spun. You were fine to fall asleep here and now, cheek on Paul’s chest, torn pantyhose and disheveled black dress, clinging uncomfortably to your waist.

The chill began to creep in. Paul too began to shiver a touch.

Christ, Paul. He wasn’t wearing nothing at all. You raised your head, opening your heavy eyelids to look down at him. His eyes flitted open at the movement, his arms still curled around you.

“Cold?” You asked him.

Paul blinked at you, attempting to catch up his mind.

“Er,” he said. “A touch I suppose.”

Your tired head rested back onto him, looking down at his chest with lidded eyes.

“Wish I could carry ya to bed after fucking your lights out.” You grumbled, breaths falling on his neck.  
  


At times you wished you were strong enough to fuck Paul even harder, hold him up against a wall, lift him when you held him tight.

“Aye, I could do that then!” Paul said. 

You raised your head again sleepily. Paul lifted onto his elbows. You groggily sat up, lifting off of him. You made a face feeling his fluids run down your leg. (It was delicious when hot, from the source, but not as much cold).

Paul held you from under your arms, lifting you a bit. His legs slid out from underneath you. You were suddenly hyper aware of his nudity. Christ, his body was lovely. Even though the lust had run its course, you could still see it on an artistic level. When he sat his stomach podged a bit, very sweet and soft. His chest too, very soft. Paul’s skin was a lovely shade of pale, contrasted by the soft dark pubic hair that poked from his lower navel.

Paul pulled you up sideways onto his lap, a hand curling under your legs.

“Eh? You don’t mean to…”

Paul stood up, you rising with him.

“Ey!”

Damn his strength, you always forgot about the damn strength he had! Men had an unfair advantage over you in that aspect. 

You felt a bit dizzy being carried like a child, still tired from before. You moved down the hall, through a door, being tossed on a mattress in a dark room.

“Ugh...dammit…” You murmured, finally on a larger, more comfortable surface. You felt a weight come down beside you on the bed.

You sat up slowly, reaching up and around to zip down your dress. It was not the most comfortable to slip in. You rolled off your torn stocking, removed your brasserie, and the undergarments Paul’s fluids leaked over, then allowed yourself to slump down on the bed.

“You’ll get cold like that, in’t it?” Paul’s voice said, low from beside you.

You lazily turned your head towards it. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark but just barely, making out the silhouette of Paul’s head. He held out an arm to you.

When you took hold, he gave you a firm tug (damn his strength) pulling you onto him. A thrill went through you, that soft warm skin bare against yours. The duvet was pulled over you, and it was lovely and warm.

Your head buzzed with the warmth. You were so very sleepy. Like in Edinburgh, Paul’s large warm presence, his scent, and the soft breaths became too much. You were soon pulled under.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think about it, reader would be 62, being born in 1958. Sucks to suck I suppose.
> 
> I would recommend Fred Astair’s “Steppin’ Out With My Baby.” It fucks!


	10. Part 10

**13 December 1980**

**8:30am Saturday**

When you woke, you weren’t quite sure where you were. You weren’t in your own bed, the sheets a deep gray blue instead of your intricate flowery pattern. The bed was rather warm too, a presence beside you, dipping the mattress. You felt a thumb graze against your shoulder. Your eyes blinked open, and you turned to your back.

Any apprehension caused by the fogginess of just having woken up dissipated upon seeing his face. The day prior came back to you.

“Ah, hello.” You said, looking up at him.

Paul was sitting up on the bed, looking down at you. You could see his lovely chest better in the sunlight. You’d always fucked him at dusk or later, in the dim lights of lamps, or moonlight shining in through curtained windows.

You brought a hand to it, feeling his bare skin.

His bedroom was equally as comfortable looking. It was warm in the flat. He had an oak wardrobe and bed, and a window on the far wall above his dresser. There was a nicely knitted quilt laid over his duvet. You’d been rather spent the night before by the time he’d tossed you on the mattress.

You sat up as well, trying to smooth the mess your hair had become. It had been styled somewhat before you went out. When you looked back to Paul, his eyes quickly flitted up from your chest.

“Mystifying things aren’t they?” You said, then pointed a finger towards his. “Yours aren’t half bad either.”

“Ey?” Paul said, a bit taken aback. He looked down at his own chest with a bewildered expression. 

You laughed.

“You’ve got a lovely chest yourself.” You said again, placing your hands back on it. “Nice and soft-like.”

Paul gave you a strange look, smiling and cocking his head to the side. Your hands closed, running each of your thumbs firmly down his puffied. Paul involuntarily shivered, his back straightening. He gave a small breath.

“You feel nice from them too, don’t you McCartney?” You said. Your voice then lowered. “S’good, that. Sexy thing, you are.”

“Aye.” Paul murmured, his eyes closed as your touches got gentler.

Paul opened his eyes, leaning deeper into the touches.

“Ya keep that up an’ I’ll be up for another go of’t.” Paul said through his breathy voice.

It drove you mad, getting him like this. Paul was so self-assured in most other aspects of his life. You admired that about him, but at the same time, you loved it when it wavered. It was very pleasurable finding the things that would do it, where on his body he liked being touched. You loved the way his voice got, and how his face would soften. Flattery would do it too, but you meant the things you said.

You ran your hands down his soft sides, resting on the dip of his hips.

“I think I’ve dropped my dress somewhere.” You frowned. “If I knew I was gonna have an away game I would’ve bought a change of clothes…”

“You were rather wiped out last night!” Paul smiled his stupid rabbit-teeth smiled, mighty proud of himself. “I was also! Fucked m’self right to sleep, I did.”

“Not before tossing me here.” You said. You thought a moment. “Didn’t think I’d end up at you place, anyhow.”

You looked around the room. You still felt a bit out of place, a bit invasive maybe. It felt wrong to be inside of your boss’s apartment.

“Feel kinda filthy, mind if I have a quick rinse?” You said.

“Ah, sure, restroom’s through there.”

Paul pointed to a door connected to the bedroom.

You had a brief shower, and when you got out, Paul was dressed. More casual than at the office, but still older fashioned. He wore a gray jumper over a collared shirt, reasonable for the weather. It definitely softened him. A towel was draped around his shoulders.

“Ey, your hair’s all wet.” You told him.

“Well, I’ve washed it.”

You found your dress discarded by the bed. You picked it up, keeping your towel wrapped around you.

Luckily your coat would cover the formal dress, but your pantyhose were torn, and Paul’s fluids had gotten on your undergarments.

“Christ, I’ve got nothing to wear underneath this.” You said. “It’ll be cold as hell out there too.”

“No?” Paul said. “Er, maybe I could lend you somethin’...”

Paul looked through his dresser drawers.

“Might be large on me, man.” You said.

“Thought so…”

You wandered around the room, there were some framed photos along the edge of his dresser.

“Is this you?” You said.

“Hmm? Yeah.”

It must’ve been an old photo, black and white. You wrinkled your nose, getting a kick out of it.

“Wow, you were so _cute._ ” You wrinkled your nose. Paul’s was much younger in the photo. His features were even more feminine, the baby fat making his cheeks even softer.

“Look’it your little ‘Kinks’ haircut.”

“It was all the rage!” Paul said, also amused, mostly by your reaction. “Everybody had their hair like that.”

He was rather “cute” in the photo, but in equal part enticing. Paul was lovely as of now, age hadn’t done much to him, but you could see what a beauty he used to be. He’d called himself a flirt, no shit, you would’ve been too, looking like that. Such dark hair, dark lidded eyes in the black and white photo. You’d sure as hell enjoy a night with him, that’s for sure.

You were nearly dry, but beads of water ran down your bare skin, making your hair stand on end. You weren’t sure how true to life the assessment was, but this Paul had a very innocent look to him, such a demure beauty.

“I was a real knave back then, you wouldn’t tell from looking at me, eh? you might’ve not liked me much.” Paul said humorously. He laughed. 

“We’d be in constant battle for dominance, yet me tell you! Quite a mercurial pair we would’ve been.”

You looked back at the present day Paul. His bangs were still reminiscent of the “Kinks” look, less styled though. His hair was damp, though curling up as it dried. Paul had more baby fat in the photo, which made him look even more “cutesy” than he did now. He’d lost a bit of it, but his cheeks were still soft. 

Your face fell again.

“Man, I’ll freeze my ass out there.” You griped.

Paul wrapped his arms around you from behind. It was warm. The soft fabric of his sweater was nice on your skin.

“I could keep you warm another way.” He said. His tone was suggestive.

Oh.

“Can’t say its not tempting…” You mumbled. “You just went last night…”

Your tone turned teasing.

“Would’ve never thought it from looking at you. You’re always good for it, aren’t you Paul?”

“I’ve gotta wait until Monday otherwise, y’know.” He said, muffled by your neck.

Those lips on your neck were quelling your worries a touch, making your head blur. He _was_ the temptress, certainly, out of the two of you.

“Er.” You said.

“You’ve got anywhere you’ve got to be today?” Paul asked.

You did actually. Visiting. The practice would be closed for the holiday week. Paul deserved it, he could be quite a workaholic, always needing to be on top of everything, putting a lot into his work.

Good thing too, that you had somewhere to be. You were embarrassed of it, but you didn’t go out much. You didn’t want Paul to think less of you because of it.

It was embarrassing, wasn’t it? To not enjoy yourself in that way, at your age? It was supposed to be the peak, wasn’t it? Your 20s, when you could still cut loose.

Being focused with work, and finding a job, you hadn’t made many connections since you’d moved.

But maybe the work reason was just an excuse. Couldn’t you go out still? It seemed that you’d never been very good at maintaining interpersonal relationships, ever since you’d left primary school.

A chill went through you. Was it pathetic, the way you lived? You only minded it sometimes, but it was embarrassing to think about it. Was there something wrong with you? Something that put others off?

It must be your fault as well. You were always nervous to talk to others without the pretence of work, or some other reason. You didn’t know how to go about speaking just to talk. What did you have to offer to them? Even if you didn’t _feel_ afraid, at times you would simply freeze up. It was dead annoying, being this way. 

Paul seemed to be keen on you, but you were fucking him. It seemed that men didn’t mind you if you were doing that. _That_ would be what you “had to offer” in this context.

“I’ve actually got to head down to Windsor.” You said. “Visiting my da’, y’know. I leave at twelve.”

“Well…” Paul whispered against the shell of your ear. “You’ve got a few hours until then…”

That was true.

“I could call a cab, walk ya out so nobody’ll catch a glimpse.” Paul said. 

There was that tick again, always with the winks. Those small mannerisms that should’ve caused secondhand embarrassment had grown on you. You didn’t think they would have. You would’ve thought the exact opposite. You didn’t know what to do.

“Catch a glimpse. Ha.” You murmured. 

You were much too focused on the head of his body, your eyes drifting around the old photos. The old styles suited him, the dark turtlenecks and tight trousers, flattering his nicely shaped legs. What a lovely thing he used to be. Well...still was.

You turned your head to him, seeing his dark hazel eyes. He was looking up at you through dark eyelashes. He had a feminine allure, but a masculine one as well. It was a perfect combination. It wouldn’t be the worst thing...to get “warmed up” before having to walk through the cold.

His nose grazed your neck. It sent a shiver through you. Such a warm presence. A lovely presence too.

His arms were curled around your body. His strong hands and wrists were one of his more masculine traits. You adored them as well, the soft dark hair dusting them. They were still delicate, graceful in the way they moved.

Your hands moved over his, covering them. You likely didn’t need to, but you always seemed inclined to touch him gently, as if he were a delicate thing. He was lovely, but certainly not fragile.

“Temptress….” You murmured to yourself, tracing his slender fingers with yours. They tightened around your body.

Paul scoffed at that. It devolved into a snort, and his arms tightened, lifting you a moment. Your heart jumped. Damn his strength.

You turned around, bracing your arms on his chest. They ran over his shoulders, the slope of them. Paul’s eyes fell shut. You grinned. Not so cocky when he had to look you in the eye, eh?

“You’re such a pretty thing.” You said. 

A small smile grew on Paul’s face. It was a good look for him, his shut eyes, his cheeks bunched up only slightly. If he were a cat he might’ve purred.

You were drawn to his hands again. They were hypnotizing in all honesty. Paul enjoyed it when you sat on his knee in the office, watching him work. It must be an ego boost for him, or maybe the company was enjoyable. He seemed to be the type unable to spend too much time without it. You enjoyed watching his hand move as he wrote. His handwriting was quite delicate and pretty, much like him.

Your fingers curled around his hands. He had such large soft palms.

“Oh, please.” Paul sighed.

Your smile grew. Such a sweet thing. He always asked so nicely.

You gently guided him to sit down on the bed. Paul went along with it giddily. 

You’d been holding your towel, but let it fall as you focused on him. Paul wasn’t subtle in the way his eyes ran over your body, seemingly hypnotized by it.His lips were parted, the familiar look of fogginess and lust in his gaze. The first time, he’d been so smug, overtly cocky at the idea of fucking you. You liked this side of him better.

“Lie down, lovely.” You purred. Paul’s eyes snapped up to your gaze, not realizing he’d been staring. There was a noticeable difference in your tone during these times. Your intentions were clear in it, your desire for Paul. You could tell the voice stirred something in him as well, something he wouldn’t have been able to find on his own.

Paul laid back. The emotion in his gaze was the one you’d seen many times before, that demure look whenever you had control of him. It was a very _very_ good look.

Paul had just gotten dressed, but you hovered over him lightly, your hands undoing his fly. You noticed Paul was holding his breath. Your eyes flitted up to his, giving him a reassuring smile. You felt his body relax.

Paul was already half hard, just beginning to swell with blood. Paul looked a touch sheepish when you looked back to his face. You gave him another reassuring look.

You didn’t mind it a bit, that he didn’t spring up immediately. You enjoyed watching it grow to its full size, feeling it twitch, drawing noises out of Paul. You would enjoy prolonging it even, it starting off small, soft and warm, filling with blood, feeling it expand. Such a pretty knob too, immaculate as the rest of him. 

It was the perfect size, a lovely curve to it. The lustful scent and smoothness was addicting, a nice sensation and taste against your tongue. You didn’t want a large grotesque thing you had to gag on, a foul scent, pounding against your cervix with an uncomfortable stretch, unpleasant grunts and growls in your ear. 

You stroked it slowly in your hand as it swelled. You were in no hurry. There was no possibility of interruption. The environment of Paul’s flat clearly differed from that of the office, or even the Edinburgh hotel. This wasn’t a workplace, or the interchangeability of a room for the night. It was Paul’s home, someplace lived in and personal. Paul could likely relax here in a way he couldn’t elsewhere.

It was a delicious little thing, filling with blood. You never got tired of it. You brought your mouth lower. You took the rubbery head in your mouth, feeling the throb of Paul’s heartbeat. It was damp, the taste matching the intoxicating scent of Paul’s arousal. It had a nice clean scent too, from his earlier shower. The sweet moans Paul began to let out were the best praise you could ask for.

Paul began to lightly shift his hips, rolling them, thrusting up only gently. You allowed it. You were less patient with them in the first few days, wanting to take him down a few pegs, learn his place, but you adored his little reactions. Besides, Paul was still fully aware who was in control. You didn’t mind giving him pleasure. He deserved it, the pretty thing.

You felt Paul’s hand rest on your head, only a gentle push, guiding you. You smiled around his length. He knew more than you what he needed in the present moment, how he needed to be pleasured, and you were happy to indulge him. Paul’s stomach heaved as he drew in heavy breaths. You ran a hand up his soft side, feeling the pliancy of his curve.

Paul held a fistful of your hair. When you pressed your tongue flat to his frenulum, toying with his slit. He gave a light tug, a small groan. You loved the way he softly shifted his legs in pleasure, shivers going up them as the familiar feeling of his release slowly beginning to build up made itself known, giddy with anticipation.

You lifted your head, licking a long line from his base to his head, up his curved spine. It quivered against your tongue, nice and heated. Paul’s hands rested on your head, tugging at your hair whenever you did something especially pleasurable.

“Like’it, Paul?” You said, low in your voice. His grip on your hair tightened. “It’s a lovely thing, really.”

You curled your hand around it, a firm squeeze making Paul gasp. It made a thrill go through you. You loved how sensitive he was here, simply touching this part of him making him come undone. You closed your eyes and held it to your face, feeling the swollen rubbery head graze against the soft skin there. A bead of precum slipped from Paul’s slit, a wet kiss to your cheek. It gave you a rush of arousal. The scent was intoxicating.

“I love it, Paul.” You sighed, tone lustful. “It’s so hot and needy. Feels completely _delicious_ inside of me, I’ll have you know.

You stroked the sensitive curve of his dick with your thumb, a firm pressure, massaging it. Blood seemed to pool here, making it painfully stiff, deeply pleasurable when soothed. Your words seemed to rile him up further. You knew praise seemed to give Paul sexual gratification, he was absolutely weak for it. You would’ve said these things regardless, but knowing this certainly gave you more incentive to do so.

“Pretty thing...the rest of you is too, isn’t it, Paul?”

Paul’s eyes cracked open, and he gave a dizzy smile down at you, his gaze still foggy. His mind had dissolved a touch, more focused on the pleasurable sensations, unable to articulate much else. He was sweet like this. You smiled smugly up at him, though there was also that admiration in your gaze.

“Lovely thing, aren’t you Paul? All of you.”

Paul gave another spacey grin. It endeared you.

You sat up, and Paul’s eyes followed your lingering movements. You hovered over him.

Maintaining eye contact, you straddled him, lowering yourself down, trapping his length between your slit and his stomach.

You began to slowly move your hips, sliding yourself over his heated shaft, back and forth, relishing the way the hardness slid against you. The wetness from your arousal provided excellent lubrication, allowing you to move at any pace, gliding smoothie along him.

Paul tilted his head back, crazing his neck. His features were pained, his hands tight on your hips, encouraging the movements.

“Oh, baby!” Paul strained, his voice choked.

His swollen head kept catching on your clitoris everytime you slid your hips back. The shape of him pushed apart your labia, exposing more sensitive areas. Paul’s stiffness had little give, the texture, friction, and feverish heat addicting. Paul’s entire body seemed hot, the heat radiating off of it. The better it got, the more you leaked down onto him, making it all the more easier to move.

Paul began grinding back up against you, his grip on your hips pressing you harder against him. You were getting a bit dizzy from the pleasure, using his abilities to have it faster. You braced a hand against his chest, the soft fabric on your palm. It was building up inside of you as well, making your confidence waver, your heartbeat quick, and breaths labored. Luckily Paul was in a similar condition. 

Paul’s hands felt firmly up your sides, squeezing the fat, relishing in the pliancy. His hands were shaky, the strength not well regulated. 

“Ooh, baby...please…” Paul was mumbling from his parted lips, barely audible. You loved the way he begged.

“What do’you want, Paul?” You breathed. You liked having the upper hand, but the sensation was making your mind fuzzy, his head now bluntly catching on your clitoris harshly with every one of his jerky thrusts. 

Paul’s teeth were gritted, he turned his head to the side sharply.

“More…” Paul groaned.

Your eyes slowly opened as you gazed down at him. You lifted off, a line of your fluid still connected to his length. It looked delightfully obscene, his pent up arousal slick with your fluids, now a dark shade of pink, a vein appearing. The sunlight from the window shone against it quite nicely.

  
“Ey!” Paul snapped, unhappy of the loss of stimulation. The fluid likely made the cold air hit his heated arousal, twitching against it in frustration.

You lightly held the shaft in your hand, angling it upwards. Paul’s head shot backwards, his mouth gaping open. You savored the feeling of hovering over it, the swollen head having light pressure against your entrance, the way it twitched in anticipation. 

Paul made a strained noise of need. In all honesty, you got satisfaction making him wait. His hands were tightly gripping your hips, but didn’t force you down. _Good._ you smiled. Paul’s fingers twitched, and he shifted his hips, but was able to resist temptation.

You waited another moment, watching him hold his breath, heart beating quick in his chest. Only then did you very slowly, begin to sink down, taking him. You savored how he slowly stretch you out, the curve a delightful feeling.

As his sensitive prick was enveloped by the tight heat, Paul’s features grew in the intensity. His mouth stretched wide open, and he released the loudest sound, very deep from his throat. Your eyes opened wider, Paul’s vocalization filling your ears. It was absolutely beautiful, dripping with desire, need, and pleasure. It stirred something deep inside you. You’d never heard him sound like this, always holding back his voice, if only a slight amount. He had to, as his natural instinct was to be loud the whole time through, only crying out when he was at his breaking point. You were in awe.

You began to move. Paul’s eyes opened a crack, watching you, his mouth ajar with labored breaths, lost in the sensation. You noticed this must’ve been the first time he was clothed and you weren’t. It was normally the other way around.

You moved at a steady pace, taking over the control. Paul’s sounds were wonderful. Your hands were braced on his stomach, the soft material of his jumper nice against your palms.

You squeezed down on him harder, if only to get more sounds out of him.

“Nice, Paul?”

Paul could only groan in response, only half of your simple words making it past his ears.

Paul’s hands grabbed at the duvet under him to ground himself. He met your movements with his hips, matching the rhythm, chasing his pleasure.

Paul began to murmur unintelligible things through his pretty parted lips. You whispered praise and affirmations down to him in return.

You had a consistent rhythm of raising yourself up, then Paul pulling your hips closer, thrusting up into you. You lowered onto him, your chest resting on his. It was quiet in the room besides your breaths and Paul’s cries, so it was the only thing you could focus on.

Paul's movements began to get more erratic, his voice getting more desperate. You raised your head, looking down at his flushed little face. Your own face felt hot as well, your head loopy. You gazed dizzily down at him, still maintaining the upper hand.

“Close, McCartney?”

Paul’s hands gripped your sides firmly, feeling the curve of your hips. His eyebrows were furrowed in intensity. His mouth opened sharply, hissing in a breath.

“Can ya, uh…” Paul said, his voice intoxicated, his mind blurry. “Ah-”

You parted your lips, looking down at his face. He wasn’t thinking straight, going off any present sensations, taking in breaths. He shivered, then spoke again.

“Can you, uh...” He began again, his voice strained. “Call’m…’Macca’”

Your head spun.

“Eh? S’a nickname of’yours?” You giggled from delirium. “ S’cute.”

You cupped his face in your hands, feeling the softness of his cheeks. Paul gasped at the contact, his eyes rolling back, all the sensations adding together. It was a good look for him, gasping for air as it became too much. You ran your hands upward, running them through his hair, damp and heated from the excretion. Paul groaned, his eyelids fluttering.

“Close, _Macca?”_

Paul drew in another audible breath, and he squeezed his eyes shut. You placed a kiss to each cheek, then to his delicate mouth. Paul hummed into it, his exhales landing on your upper lip.

You rested your head back onto him. You allowed him to take more control, him chasing his release. You curled your arms around his neck. Paul had a very nice scent, the jumper too, and the more sexual one emanating from his body.

Paul rocked into you, his hips shuddering from the intensity, his breaths hot in your ear. He clung to you tightly, making sure you took it all, releasing every drop. You couldn’t move away if you wanted to.

At times like these you were glad to be on the pill. It would be a drag always having a rubber handy, and it was much better taking him raw. Furthermore, it was incredible, the feeling of the hot bursts shooting inside you, warming and pleasuring you to your core, the way Paul held you tight, instinct taking over as he went as deep as he could, his lovely cries in your ear, the way his back arched. It might be your favorite part.

Paul’s hips slowed into more shuddery movements, his shaky breaths beginning to even. You lied on top of him, enjoying the soft fabric against your bare skin, the warmth of his body.

You enjoyed this too. You’d fallen asleep in a similar manner the night before, Edinburgh as well. Paul was rather comfortable to lay on. 

The air of the room was cold, however, and you weren’t clothed. You slowly lifted up, Paul’s softened member easily slipping from your passage. Paul gave a low hum in contentment, now lying sleepily. His fluids ran down your legs, drying upon contact with the air. This part you didn’t like as much. You frowned.

Paul smiled and tucked himself back into his pants.

“Don’ move, I’ll get that for ya.”

Paul dipped into the master bath. You heard the water running, then he came back with a wet washcloth. He ran them over your inner thighs, cleaning them off. You were a bit flustered, being the one fussed over now.

“Ey, thanks.” You said. Paul nodded pleasantly. He seemed unaffected by the gesture. It was a bit like the previous night when he wiped your smeared lipstick, you being the only one taken aback.

You realized you still didn’t have any stockings to wear, only your dress from the previous night along with your coat. That’d be a drag. You picked up the towel from the ground, wrapping it around yourself.

“I’ve gotta walk in the cold.” You muttered.

Paul turned to you.

“I said I’d get you a cab, y’know. I can take you back an’ all...keep you warm…”

  
  


“Oof, Paul...we quite literally _just-”_

Paul gave one of his low giggles.

“I meant it in the _actual_ sense of the word. I’m warm aren’t I?”

Paul rested his arms around your shoulders. He was right about that, especially with the soft jumper conducting his warmth.

“Maybe _you’re_ the one who has to get their mind out of the gutter.” He said.

You’d just slept with him, but in a moment of weakness you wrapped your arms around his body, your face in his neck, then gave him a firm squeeze. Paul was warm, and had such a nice softness to him. Your chin rested on his shoulder, and ran your hands over his back, feeling the curve of it through the soft material. Paul didn’t move away, if anything, he leant into it, his body relaxing.

Outside of the moment you’d think doing something like this would be awkward, but somehow that was absent. It was just as unremarkable when you pulled back, no discomfort then either. Paul seemed as at ease as you were. When you met his eyes, they were lidded and sleepy, gazing back at yours. They were such a lovely color too the crinkles at the ends, and gracefully arched eyebrows.

You tilted your head, then pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth. Paul had such a pretty one, pink and nearly heart shaped, coming together like two petals. They were always nice against yours, soft, but a firmness to them. Paul seemed to enjoy it as well, taking it from him. He enjoyed being desired.

Paul’s hands rested on your bare shoulders, feeling over them with light touches, subtle ones. You did enjoy the feeling of his fingertips. They were well padded, the callouses grazing against your soft skin.

Per his word, Paul called a cab. The chill crept up your legs, that much was inevitable. Still, it was comfortable having Paul’s warmth to cling to. He found the whole thing humorous, the bastard. Must get a kick out of you going out bare beneath the dress. Real naughty, hah. Luckily no hands crept up, much too cold for that.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**15 December 1980**

**6:45am Monday**

It was nice visiting home the previous weekend. You hadn’t seen your dad since your company dissolved, making you move down to London. Your company had been based in Loughborough, and he’d come up to visit the previous August. He’d always been a good support to you, never pushing expectations of what you needed to be. You knew you’d always have a place with him.

You toyed with your pen. Should you move back? You could probably get work there, down in Windsor. Well, you could find something in London too. Why hadn’t you yet? Suppose you’d been getting comfortable.

The door to the Lobby opened.

“Ah, morning, Paul.” You said.

Paul smiled at you. He took off his raincoat.

“Sorry, was a bit caught up.”

“S’alright.”  
  


Paul usually arrived before you, but luckily you had your own key for the lobby.

“Traffic’s often ‘horrible when it rains like this.” He said.

You nodded. He walked past your desk. He had a small paper parcel in his hand.

“Here, promised you these.”

You took it, a bit surprised. What had he…

Oh. Right... Hosiery.

“Er...thank’ya.” You said.

Paul nodded, smiling, then walked into his office.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it’s not obvious I think p’s voice during sex would be absolutely insane, considering his vocal abilities. Please man 😔
> 
> Also, wear a condom! Practice safe sex!


End file.
